tibrarp  of  Che  Cheologtcal  ^eminarp 

PRINCETON  •  NEW  JERSEY 

FROM  THE  LIBRARY  OF 
ROBERT  ELLIOTT  SPEER 

BX  8495  . C615  J3 

Jackson,  George,  1864-1945. 

Collier  of  Manchester 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2019  with  funding  from 
Princeton  Theological  Seminary  Library 


https://archive.org/details/collierofmanchesOOjack 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


Photo.  Lafayette ,  Lt<t. 


COLLIER  OF^ 
MANCHESTER 


A  FRIEND’S  TRIBUTE 


BY 


GEORGE  JACKSON 


NEW 


YORK 


GEORGE  H,  DORAN  COMPANY 


Made  and  Printed  in  Great  Britain. 

T.  and  A.  Constable  Ltd.,  Printers,  Edinburgh. 


FOREWORD 


BY  S.  Parkes  Cadman,  D.D. 

Persons  rather  than  events  attract  us,  and  since  we 
cannot  get  at  persons  without  knowing  their  surround¬ 
ings,  biography  often  becomes  an  open  door  into  history. 
When  the  lives  of  really  representative  men  and  women 
are  at  our  disposal  we  are  likely  to  find  in  them  an  epit¬ 
ome  of  their  times.  From  these  viewpoints  the  present 
biography  is  of  capital  importance.  It  presents  in  an 
admirable  manner  a  noble  servant  of  God,  of  the  Church 
of  Christ,  and  of  humanity :  a  man  of  singularly  pure  yet 
sagacious  ways,  whose  character  and  career  were  alike 
devoted  and  encouraging  for  us  all. 

“Collier  of  Manchester”  has  long  been  a  household 
word  in  Protestant  circles  throughout  the  British  Com¬ 
monwealth  and  the  American  Republic.  It  is  entirely 
appropriate  that  so  good  a  minister  of  Jesus  Christ  should 
be  portrayed  by  the  gifted  author  who  was  familiar  for 
years  to  English-speaking  nations  as  “Jackson  of  Edin¬ 
burgh.”  Both  men  came  of  the  same  spiritual  lineage. 
As  sons  of  the  Evangelical  Movement,  which  has  trans¬ 
formed  States  and  planted  the  Gospel  of  the  Kingdom  in 
waste  places,  they  thoroughly  understood  each  other’s 
beliefs  and  attitudes  on  the  basic  issues  of  religion.  The 
intimate  friendship  between  them  is  drawn  upon  by  Pro¬ 
fessor  Jackson  to  deepen  and  vivify  our  appreciation  of 
Mr.  Collier’s  values  as  a  great  Ambassador  of  the  Cross. 


11 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


I  use  the  adjective  advisedly,  aware  how  often  it  is  mis¬ 
applied,  but  also  aware  that,  in  this  connection,  it  is  not 
only  fitting  but  necessary. 

Mr.  Collier  was  born  in  1855,  a  date  significant  enough 
for  those  who  have  traced  the  main  developments  of  Prot¬ 
estantism  in  the  Victorian  period.  Methodism  of  the 
aggressive  type  had  then  covered  a  century  and  a  half  of 
its  duration  with  a  series  of  remarkable  victories.  It  had 
given  a  fresh  lease  of  life  to  the  Reformed  Churches,  and 
quickened  numerous  moral  agencies  and  reforms.  But 
from  1840  onwards  it  showed  signs  of  reaction  and  even 
of  weakness.  A  certain  staleness  was  the  outcome  of 
fierce  internal  controversies;  officialism’s  shell  began  to 
harden,  and  in  consequence,  the  vital  energies  of  a  religion 
of  pronounced  inwardness  and  freedom  were  restricted. 
The  masses,  sensitive  to  a  fault  where  the  shortcomings 
of  the  Churches  are  concerned,  deserted  their  sanctuaries, 
especially  in  the  cities.  Hugh  Price  Hughes  faced  these 
conditions  with  an  intrepidity  scarcely  excelled  by  that 
of  Wesley  himself,  and  Samuel  Francis  Collier  followed 
closely  after  Hughes.  Under  the  far-sighted  leadership 
of  Church  Statesmen  like  the  late  Doctor  Henry  J.  Pope, 
these  dedicated  spirits  were  instrumental  in  renewing  the 
strength  and  enlarging  the  scope  of  the  Evangelical 
Faith.  They  challenged  the  inertia  of  institutional 
Christianity,  the  indifference  and  selfishness  of  the  well- 
to-do  classes,  and  the  gilded  vice  or  poverty  and  misery 
which  beset  them  on  all  sides.  The  results  of  their  sus¬ 
tained  crusade  are  a  stirring  record  of  the  salvatory  power 
of  essential  Christianity  wisely  interpreted  and  earnestly 
proclaimed. 

Indeed,  I  know  nothing  in  contemporary  Protestantism 
which  is  more  stimulative  to  its  constancy  in  well  doing 


FOREWORD 


in 


than  the  plain  tale  of  these  “Missions”  which  are  now 
established  in  the  principal  centers  of  the  British  Empire. 
American  readers,  however,  should  not  be  misled  by  the 
title.  In  the  United  States  Missions  are  associated  with 
the  slums.  In  London,  Edinburgh,  Manchester,  Liver¬ 
pool,  Sheffield  and  elsewhere  they  indicate  spacious  halls, 
great  congregations,  worshipful  services,  preaching  of  a 
high  grade,  and  they  embrace  in  their  constituencies  both 
rich  and  poor,  and  those  who  are  neither  rich  nor  poor. 
Central  Hall,  Manchester,  commands  the  finest  pulpit 
talent  of  the  three  kingdoms  and  of  other  English-speak¬ 
ing  nations.  Scholars,  divines,  pastors  and  evangelists 
can  be  heard  there  week  by  week.  As  a  preaching  center, 
it  is  unsurpassed  by  any  Cathedral  or  Abbey  in  the  land. 
But  the  burden  of  the  ministry  of  these  Missions  is  ever 
for  the  multitudes  who  are  as  sheep  having  no  shepherd. 
In  this  respect,  as  in  other  salient  features,  the  Man¬ 
chester  Mission  remains  what  Mr.  Collier  made  it: — 
the  premier  exhibit  of  its  kind  in  the  Christian  world. 
Laymen  and  clergymen  of  various  denominations  and 
countries  have  so  judged  it,  and  their  verdict  is  attested 
by  all  who  know  its  work. 

When  we  consider  that  it  is  also  the  memorial  of  Mr. 
Collier’s  ceaseless  passion  and  prevision  in  its  behalf,  and 
that  it  reflects  from  many  angles  his  unique  personality, 
this  biography  grows  in  interest  and  blessing  at  every 
stage.  I  shall  not  anticipate  the  pleasure  and  the  profit 
of  its  readers.  They  will  discern  in  it  a  saint  who  spoke 
of  his  many  daring  spiritual  adventures,  when  he  men¬ 
tioned  them  at  all,  in  a  natural  tone:  a  simple  sincere 
believer  who,  nevertheless,  welcomed  the  constructive 
scholarship  of  his  age ;  an  unsurpassed  administrator  who 
was  also  an  idealist  in  the  best  meaning  of  the  term.  The 


IV 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


book  teaches  us  that  while  Churchmen  spend  their  scanty 
powers  in  useless  quarrelings  and  disputings,  a  fresh  per¬ 
fection  of  Divine  Grace  awaits  their  acceptance.  It  con¬ 
firms  our  confidence  in  the  Life  and  the  Message  of 
the  Risen  and  Redeeming  Lord.  Professor  Jackson  has 
always  spoken  and  written  to  purpose :  with  clarity,  in¬ 
sight,  and  reconciling  breadth.  But  in  this  biography  he 
has  struck  a  new  note,  and  one  which  will  resound  with 
hope  and  gladness  in  thousands  of  homes  and  Churches. 
We  are  his  debtors  for  what  evidently  has  been  a  labor 
of  love.  We  can  neither  easily  discharge  our  obligation 
to  him,  nor  forget  his  exquisite  and  faithful  portrait  of  a 
modest,  fearless  and  immensely  capable  prince  of  our 
common  Israel.  “Collier  of  Manchester”  will  surely  cir¬ 
culate  throughout  America,  and  live  abundantly  in  the 
readers  of  this  book.  They  will  see  that  it  gets  into  the 
hands  of  every  lover  of  Jesus  Christ  whom  they  can  influ¬ 
ence  in  order  that  it  may  bear  fruit  after  its  kind. 

Central  Congregational  Church , 

Brooklyn ,  New  York  City , 

Advent:  1923. 


PREFACE 


This  is  not  a  formal  biography  ;  it  is  rather,  as  the 
title-page  indicates,  the  tribute  of  a  friend.  In 
Collier’s  case,  the  materials  for  a  volume  of  the 
familiar  4  Life  and  Letters  ’  order  do  not  exist. 
Very  few  of  his  letters  have  been  preserved.  Except 
for  a  few  months  of  his  first  year  after  leaving 
college  he  kept  no  diary.  Only  five  of  his  sermon 
manuscripts  remain,  and  these  are  all  earlier  than 
his  Manchester  days.  He  wrote  no  books,  and 
only  very  occasionally  a  brief  magazine  article. 
Journalists  who  interviewed  him  found  him  always 
ready  to  talk  about  his  work,  always  reluctant  to 
talk  about  himself.  With  one  or  two  exceptions, 
even  his  most  intimate  friends  have  been  able  to 
contribute  very  few  characteristic  and  self-revealing 
sayings  or  incidents.  As  one  of  them  says,  Collier 
was  4  more  given  to  laughter  than  epigrams.’  If, 
therefore,  the  reader  sometimes  finds  the  following 
pages  lacking  in  concrete  and  picturesque  detail, 
if  he  has  to  listen  to  Collier  speaking  through  me, 
when  he  would  rather  have  heard  him  speaking  for 
himself,  he  has  the  explanation  in  advance.  Such 
material  as  I  have  been  able  to  gather  has  been 


VI 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


obtained  mainly  from  correspondence  and  interviews 
with  old  colleagues,  friends,  and  fellow-workers, 
from  newspaper  cuttings,  and  from  old  volumes  of 
the  monthly  magazine  and  the  annual  reports  of 
the  Manchester  Mission.  Again  and  again  the 
weary  search  of  hours  in  what  is  now  only  a  heap 
of  dead  and  dry  chaff  has  been  rewarded  with  but 
the  tiniest  handful  of  grains  of  wheat.  At  the  same 
time,  this  record,  brief  as  it  is,  will,  I  think,  be 
found  trustworthy.  Nothing  has  been  set  down 
for  which  there  was  not  written  or  oral  testimony ; 
and  as  these  pages  have  been  carefully  read  both 
by  Mrs.  Collier,  her  son  (the  Rev.  Donald  Collier, 
B.A.),  and  by  Collier’s  successor — the  Rev.  Herbert 
Cooper — the  substantial  accuracy  of  the  narrative 
may  be  safely  assumed.  Of  course,  this  does  not 
involve  them  or  anyone  else  in  any  responsibility 
for  the  estimate  of  Collier’s  life  and  work  which 
is  here  given.  For  that  the  writer  himself  is  alone 
responsible. 

Two  further  words  may  be  added :  one  about 
the  man,  the  other  about  his  work.  More  than 
two  years  have  passed  since  Collier’s  death,  but 
there  is  no  sign  of  weakness  or  decay  in  the  work 
to  which  he  gave  his  life.  His  sudden  removal 
left  many  fearing  for  the  stability  of  the  Manchester 
Mission ;  but  what,  under  other  circumstances, 
might  have  proved  a  disastrous  shock  has  only 


PREFACE 


Vll 


revealed  the  depth  and  strength  of  the  foundations 
which  he  had  laid.  He  had  piled  high,  but  he  had 
dug  deep,  and  therefore  his  work  abides.  Of  the 
man  himself  I  have  only  to  say  that,  having  known 
him  with  some  intimacy  for  thirty  years,  my  affec¬ 
tion  and  regard  have  steadily  increased  with  the 
nearer  view  of  him  which  the  writing  of  this  book 
has  given  me. 

I  am  greatly  indebted  to  scores  of  correspondents 
and  friends  without  whose  aid  these  pages  could 
never  have  been  written.  It  is  impossible  to  name 
them  all  here,  but  besides  Mrs.  Collier  and  Mr. 
Cooper,  a  word  of  special  acknowledgment  is  due 
to  the  Rev.  Samuel  Marriott  and  to  Gipsy  Smith 
for  the  very  helpful  memoranda  with  which  they 
have  furnished  me.  The  index  is  the  work  of  my 
wife,  who  has  also  been  my  counsellor  and  helper 
throughout. 

GEORGE  JACKSON. 


Didsbuby  College, 
July  1923. 


CONTENTS 


Preface 


CHAPTER  I 

Early  Years,  1855-1881 

CHAPTER  II 

Trying  his  Wings,  1881-1885  . 

CHAPTER  III 

The  Manchester  Mission,  1885-1921  . 

i.  How  the  Mission  began. 

ii.  How  the  Mission  grew. 

hi.  How  the  Mission  was  financed, 
iv.  The  Mission  as  others  saw  it. 
v.  £  Collier’s  Mission.’ 


CHAPTER  IV 

The  Lover  of  Souls  . 


CHAPTER  V 

The  Worker  . 


The  Chief 


CHAPTER  VI 


CHAPTER  VII 


The  Preacher . 


X 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


CHAPTER  VIII 

The  Philanthropist  . 


CHAPTER  IX 

The  Man 

i.  Some  Personal  Characteristics. 

ii.  In  the  Study. 
hi.  In  the  Home. 

iv.  In  the  Secret  Place. 


CHAPTER  X 

President  of  the  Conference,  1913-1914 


CHAPTER  XI 

Visit  to  Australia,  1920-1921 


CHAPTER  XII 

Closing  Days,  1921 


PAGE 

.  122 


.  142 


168 


184 


.  195 


INDEX 


205 


CHAPTER  I 


EARLY  YEARS 
1855-1881 

Not  long  ago  a  man  out  of  work  found  his  way  to 
the  Men’s  Home  of  the  Manchester  Mission.  It 
was  by  no  means  his  first  visit,  but  several  years 
had  passed  since  he  had  been  there  last.  During 
the  interval  S.  F.  Collier,  the  founder  of  the  Home, 
had  died.  As  the  man  stood  waiting  in  the  office, 
he  caught  sight  of  a  portrait  of  Collier  which  hung 
on  the  wall.  Pulling  himself  up  sharply  before  the 
picture  he  stood  for  a  few  seconds  at  attention. 
Then  he  said,  half  to  himself  but  loud  enough  to 
be  overheard  by  one  who  was  standing  by,  ‘  You  ’re 
the  man  that  was  always  sorry  for  coves  like  I.’ 
This  is  the  man  whose  story  the  following  pages 
seek  to  tell — a  man  who  for  nearly  forty  years  bore 
on  his  mind  and  heart  the  sins  and  sorrows  of  the 
great  city  in  which  he  lived  ;  who  daily  remembered 
and  was  ‘  sorry  for  ’  the  dim  multitudes  whom  most 
of  us  find  it  so  easy  to  forget,  except  perhaps  at 
Christmas,  or  when  some  grave  industrial  crisis 
thrusts  hunger’s  gaunt  visage  before  our  eyes,  and 
who  never  wearied  devising  new  ways  of  helping 
them  ;  a  man  to  whom  it  was  given,  as  to  very  few 
of  his  generation,  to  build  up  good  and  honest 


2 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


citizens  out  of  the  mere  driftwood  of  the  great 
human  tide,  and  who,  when  he  died,  left  his  best 
and  most  abiding  memorial  in  the  lives  of  the 
thousands  whose  weary  lot  he  had  lightened,  and 
whose  feet  he  had  brought  up  out  of  the  miry  clay. 

Samuel  Francis  Collier  was  born  in  Runcorn, 
Cheshire,  on  October  3,  1855.  His  mother,  Mary 
Littler,  was  the  second  wife  of  Samuel  Collier,  and 
Samuel  Francis  was  their  eldest  son.  Of  Mrs.  Collier, 
unfortunately,  there  is  little  to  be  told.  Her  son 
once  said  of  her  that  4  she  was  always  calm  when 
there  was  bustle  everywhere  else,’  and  at  the  time 
of  his  death  she  was  spoken  of  as  4  a  quiet,  godly 
woman  of  rare  charm  and  simplicity  of  manner  ’  ; 
but  beyond  this  no  record  survives.  The  father 
appears  to  have  been  a  man  of  unusual  strength  of 
character  and  of  considerable  local  fame.  He  was 
one  of  a  large  family  all  of  whom  were  deeply 
religious,  well  versed  in  the  Scriptures,  and  keenly 
interested  in  the  problems  of  theology.  They 
studied  and  discussed  together  books  like  Watson’s 
Institutes ,  and  of  one  of  them  it  is  related  that  he 
liked  nothing  better  than  to  join  in  public  debate, 
say,  with  the  local  Baptist  minister  on  the  subject 
of  infant  baptism.  In  all  this  warm,  quick  life 
Samuel  Collier  shared  to  the  full.  His  business 
life  began  at  Preston  Brook,  a  few  miles  from 
Runcorn,  and  here  his  first  married  days  were 
spent.  Later  he  removed  to  Runcorn,  where  he 
established  a  large  and  successful  grocery  business. 


EARLY  YEARS 


3 


It  says  much  both  for  his  own  will  to  get  on  and 
for  the  harder  conditions  of  life  seventy  years  ago, 
that  in  order  to  meet  the  requirements  of  customers 
who  had  to  go  early  to  work,  his  shop  used  to  be 
open  every  morning  at  five  o’clock.  Nor  were  the 
claims  of  the  larger  life  of  the  town  forgotten.  He 
was  one  of  the  4  Improvement  Commissioners  ’  for 
Runcorn — the  Town  Council  of  those  days — and 
whenever  a  fight  was  on,  Samuel  Collier  was  usually 
to  be  found  in  the  thick  of  it.  But  through  all,  the 
Church  remained  his  first  and  strongest  love.  In 
his  early  days  he  was  a  member  of  the  Primitive 
Methodist  Church,  and  it  was  there  that  he  began 
his  long  and  remarkable  career  as  a  lay  preacher. 
Indeed,  there  is  good  reason  to  believe  that  at  one 
time  he  contemplated  going  farther  and  seeking 
admission  into  its  ministry,  but  an  early  marriage 
and  other  circumstances  which  are  now  obscure 
put  an  end  to  that  project  and  at  the  same  time 
led  him  to  become  a  Wesleyan  Methodist. 

Samuel  Collier  was  one  of  that  great  band  of  lay 
preachers  to  whom  Methodism  in  all  its  branches 
owes  so  incalculable  a  debt.  If  one  may  judge 
by  the  few  letters  to  his  son  which  have  been  pre¬ 
served,  he  thought  a  good  deal  more  about  sermons 
and  preachers  than  about  either  his  shop  or  his 
municipal  politics.1  His  fame  as  an  evangelist 
went  abroad  through  all  Cheshire.  An  old  lady 

1  Generally,  of  course,  it  is  of  preachers  of  his  own  Church  that  he 
writes  ;  but  on  one  occasion — September  1875 — he  tells  of  goingto  hear 
Cardinal  Manning  in  Liverpool :  f  He  is  a  clever  speaker  and  can  reason 
well/  is  the  rather  disappointingly  meagre  verdict. 


4 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


who  heard  the  son  preach  while  he  was  a  student 
at  Didsbury  remarked  afterwards,  4  He  will  make 
his  mark,  but  he  can’t  yet  preach  like  his  father.’ 
Very  sure  of  his  message,  fearless,  passionate,  often 
vehement,  in  the  proclamation  of  it,  his  word  some¬ 
times  shook  men’s  very  souls.  He  was  a  tall  man, 
with  dark,  flashing  eyes,  and  abundant  gesture,  and 
when  he  preached  he  put  all  his  powers  to  work. 
If  his  preaching  had  little  of  the  4  wooing  note  ’  in 
it,  it  sometimes  crashed  through  the  door  of  men’s 
hearts  by  the  sheer  energy  of  conviction  which  lay 
behind  it.  When  he  was  in  the  pulpit,  it  used  to 
be  said,  sinners  either  4  came  out  ’  or  4  went  out  ’  . 
that  is  to  say,  they  either  went  forward  to  the 
4  penitent  form,’  or  fled  from  the  presence  of  a 
preacher  who  reasoned  with  such  power  of  right¬ 
eousness  and  judgment.  For  his  own  as  well  as 
for  his  son’s  sake,  we  should  have  been  glad  to 
know  more  of  this  remarkable  man.  He  was  a 
man  universally  esteemed  for  his  strict  uprightness 
and  loyalty  to  conviction  ;  but  he  had,  apparently, 
none  of  the  warmth  and  geniality  of  his  son.  There 
was  about  him  a  certain  stern  reserve  which  made 
him  more  feared  than  loved.  As  Matthew  Arnold 
said  of  Gray,  he  never  spoke  out — unless  it  was  in 
the  pulpit ;  even  his  letters  to  his  son  seem,  when 
all  allowance  is  made,  rather  cold  and  formal. 
When  Francis  writes  from  school  to  ask  his  father’s 
guidance  in  the  choice  of  a  profession,  he  gets  little 
more  than  this  :  4  It  is  well  to  have  the  counsel 
and  advice  of  parents  and  friends,  but  it  is  better 


EARLY  YEARS 


5 


to  have  the  light  and  teaching  which  is  from  above.’ 
When  the  boy  preached  for  the  first  time  in  St. 
Paul’s  Church,  Runcorn — the  church  in  which  he 
had  worshipped  as  a  child — and  all  others  were 
speaking  words  of  commendation  and  encourage¬ 
ment,  the  father’s  only  comment  was  that  he  would 
have  to  do  much  better  than  that  to  satisfy  him. 
Nevertheless,  one  is  glad  to  think  that  the  old  man 
lived  long  enough  to  be  warmed  and  gladdened  by 
the  promise  of  his  son’s  early  ministry  in  the  south 
of  England.  He  died  in  October  1883,  just  two 
years  before  Samuel  Francis  began  his  great  work 
in  Manchester. 

We  get  a  few,  a  very  few,  glimpses  of  young 
Collier  in  these  early  Runcorn  days.  The  life  of 
the  home,  as  of  most  Methodist  homes  sixty  or 
seventy  years  ago,  was  simple,  perhaps  even  austere, 
but  there  does  not  seem  to  have  been  about  it  any¬ 
thing  forced  or  unnatural.  Nobody  who  knew 
S.  F.  Collier  in  later  life  will  believe  that  he  and 
merry  laughter  were  ever  far  apart.  Prompted 
partly  perhaps  by  his  father’s  vigorous  performances 
in  the  pulpit,  ‘  Master  Frank  ’  acquired  considerable 
reputation  as  a  reciter,  and  was  much  in  demand 
at  children’s  parties.  He  had  his  full  share  of  the 
mishaps  which  usually  fall  to  the  lot  of  healthy 
boys  with  anything  of  the  spirit  of  adventure  in 
them.  On  one  occasion  an  involuntary  dip  in  the 
Bridgewater  Canal  nearly  cost  him  his  life.  At 
another  time  a  bit  of  old  wire  pierced  one  of  his 
eyes,  with  results  which  for  a  while  threatened  to 


6 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


be  very  grave  ;  permanent  injury  to  the  sight  was 
happily  averted,  but  the  mark  of  the  mishap  was 
with  him  to  the  end.  Perhaps  the  most  character¬ 
istic  of  these  memories  of  childhood  is  a  story  which, 
in  varying  versions,  was  often  repeated  in  later  days 
at  Collier’s  expense.  He  had  been  sent  on  an 
errand  with  a  couple  of  parcels.  Shortly  after¬ 
wards  he  was  discovered  with  a  boy  on  each  side 
of  him,  each  carrying  a  parcel,  while  S.  F.  C. 
marched  between  them  unburdened  and  free.  His 
friends  liked  to  recall  the  little  parable  in  after  years 
when  they  saw  his  astonishing  knack  of  setting 
others  to  work,  though  they  knew  well  that  it 
told  only  half  the  truth  :  whatever  burdens  Collier 
laid  upon  others  the  heaviest  end  was  always  kept 
for  himself. 

School-days  began  at  Mil]  House  Academy,  Run¬ 
corn,  kept  by  a  Mr.  Bower ;  but  a  new  and  im¬ 
portant  chapter  in  the  boy’s  life  opened  in  1868 
when,  at  the  age  of  thirteen,  he  went  to  Bickerton 
House,  Southport.  Here  he  spent  the  next  nine 
years — six  as  pupil  and  three  as  tutor.  The  head 
of  the  school  was  the  late  Henry  Mathwin,  a  man 
of  fine  intellectual  gifts  and  of  still  rarer  moral 
qualities.  The  teacher’s  opportunity  was  in  his 
eyes  a  sacred  trust  from  on  high,  and  he  did  his 
work  always  as  one  who  must  give  an  account. 
When  he  died — in  January  1908 — Collier,  who  gave 
an  address  at  the  grave-side,  spoke  not  only  for 
himself  but  for  hundreds  of  old  Bickerton  House 
boys  when  he  said  that  next  to  his  own  father  he 


EARLY  YEARS 


owed  more  to  Mr.  Mathwin  and  to  his  teaching  than 
to  any  one  else  in  the  world.  The  Rev.  G.  Arm¬ 
strong  Bennetts,  who  joined  the  staff  of  the  school 
while  Collier  was  still  one  of  its  pupils,  writes  as 
follows  of  the  influence  of  its  head  master  : — 

4 1  never  knew  any  school  in  which  there  was 
so  fine  a  tone  of  moral  and  religious  life.  Mr. 
Mathwin  was  an  intense  admirer  of  Arnold  of 
Rugby,  and  modelled  his  school  management 
much  upon  the  lines  adopted  by  Arnold.  He 
drew  his  elder  boys  into  close  and  affectionate 
comradeship  with  himself,  and  urged  his  assistant 
masters  to  carry  the  same  tone  through  the 
school.  He  would  not  allow  any  system  of 
punishments  in  the  discipline  of  the  school.  He 
had  himself  a  genius  for  managing  boys  and  he 
expected  his  masters  to  rule  by  the  exercise  of 
gentle  but  firm  personal  influence.  I  never 
knew  anywhere  a  more  beautiful  tone  of  com¬ 
radeship  than  existed  in  Bickerton  House,  which 
won  high  distinction  not  only  in  its  scholastic 
results  but  in  character-building.’ 

In  this  kindly,  fostering  air  Collier  made  steady 
if  not  brilliant  progress  with  his  studies.  He  passed 
the  Cambridge  Local  Examinations,  Junior  and 
Senior,  both  with  honours,  obtaining  in  the  latter 
distinction  in  French.  A  year  or  two  later  he  took 
the  London  Matriculation,  again  with  honours. 
Nor  were  his  successes  confined  to  the  class-room. 
Old  4  Bickertonians  ’  still  remember  and  talk  of 
his  prowess  on  the  cricket-field,  especially  with 
the  ball.  Indeed,  for  two  or  three  years  he 
was  the  team’s  4  crack  ’  bowler.  His  analysis  as 


8  COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 

recorded  in  the  Bickerton  Annual  for  1876  read  as 
follows  : — 

Balls.  Runs.  Maidens.  Wickets.  Wides.  No-Balls.  Runs  per  Wicket. 

668  182  42  60  2  6  3*16 

And,  as  we  shall  see,  Collier’s  interest  in  the  national 
game  never  slackened  to  the  end  of  his  life.  Mean¬ 
while,  more  serious  matters  were  beginning  to 
occupy  his  mind.  Bickerton  House  was  a  Method¬ 
ist  school,  and  on  Sundays  the  boys  attended  the 
Trinity  Wesleyan  Methodist  Church  in  Southport. 
One  of  the  class-leaders  connected  with  the  Church 
was  Mr.  Thomas  Walton  Stead,  of  whose  class 
several  of  the  assistant  masters  and  some  of  the 
senior  boys,  including  Collier,  were  members.  Mr. 
Armstrong  Bennetts,  who  was  also  a  member  of 
the  class  at  this  time,  describes  its  leader  as  ‘  a 
man  of  most  refined  and  gentle  personality,  a  man 
of  culture  and  of  deep  and  fervent  piety.’  So  that 
once  again  young  Collier  was  supremely  fortunate 
in  the  character  of  the  personal  influences  that 
were  helping  to  mould  his  life  during  its  most 
plastic  years.  It  was  at  one  of  the  meetings  of 
Mr.  Stead’s  class,  greatly  aided  by  his  tutor, 
Mr.  Bennetts — whose  service  at  this  crisis  of  his 
life  he  always  gratefully  acknowledged — that  Collier, 
then  a  boy  of  sixteen,  made  the  religious  decision 
which  was  to  determine  all  his  own  future.1  There 

1  Another  member  of  Mr.  Walton  Stead’s  class  w  ho  left  a  very  deep 
impression  on  Collier’s  mind  was  a  simple,  unlettered,  but  godly  old 
man,  known  among  his  fellow-members  as  ‘  blind  William’ — an  in¬ 
teresting  illustration  of  that  spiritual  camaraderie  which  the  Methodist 
class-meeting  makes  possible,  and  ought  to  cultivate,  among  Christian  men 
and  women  of  the  most  diverse  types. 


EARLY  YEARS 


9 


are  two  or  three  references  to  what  had  taken  place 
in  his  letters  to  his  parents,  but  on  the  whole  it 
seems  better  not  to  quote  them.  They  are  very 
brief,  they  are  mixed  up  in  schoolboy  fashion  with 
other  interests  of  his  daily  life,  and  they  are  couched, 
naturally  enough,  in  the  conventional  religious 
phraseology  of  the  day.  The  real  significance  of 
the  change  is  to  be  looked  for,  not  in  his  own  boyish 
account  of  it,  but  in  the  ‘  clear  life  ensuing.’ 

True  to  his  lifelong  instinct,  Collier  had  no  sooner 
4  enlisted  ’  himself  than  he  set  about  seeking  recruits. 
He  undertook  the  distributing  of  tracts  in  the  neigh¬ 
bourhood  of  his  school,  and  during  one  of  his 
holidays  his  new  faith  for  the  first  time  found 
public  speech  for  itself  in  a  little  cottage  meeting 
held  in  what  is  still  known  in  Runcorn  as  4  Taylor’s 
Row.’  To  that  humble  beginning  he  used  always 
to  trace  his  first  impulse  to  do  the  work  of  an 
evangelist.  A  year  or  two  later  he  preached  his 
first  sermon  as  a  local  preacher.  His  text  was 
Luke  xviii.  37  :  4  They  told  him  that  Jesus  of 
Nazareth  passeth  by.’  He  evidently  took  great 
pains  with  this  first  effort.  Three  copies  of  the 
manuscript  are  still  in  existence,  one  of  which  bears 
a  pencilled  note  which  suggests  that  it  had  been 
submitted  to  a  friend  for  criticism  and  counsel. 
It  is  dated  February  26,  1874.  Another  copy  is 
inscribed,  in  the  handwriting  of  a  later  day, 
4  S.  F.  C.’s  first  sermon,  preached  at  Birkdale 
Common,  Southport.’  The  following  year,  ac¬ 
cording  to  Methodist  usage,  he  had  to  preach  his 


10 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


4  trial  sermon  ’  before  receiving  his  full  credentials 
as  a  lay  preacher.  1  I  am  afraid,’  his  father  writes 
to  him,  ‘  you  think  too  much  about  it.  My  advice 
is,  prepare  as  if  you  were  going  to  address  a  con¬ 
gregation  in  the  usual  way.  Try  to  be  yourself, 
preach  as  one  intent  on  doing  good,  and  all  will  be 
right.’  The  ordeal  was  successfully  passed,  and  at 
twenty  years  of  age  Collier  found  himself  enrolled 
among  the  fully  accredited  lay  preachers  of  the 
Wesleyan  Methodist  Church. 

And  now  the  time  was  approaching  when  a 
definite  decision  must  be  taken  about  the  future 
course  of  his  life.  In  a  letter  to  his  parents,  March  6, 
1872,  he  had  said,  referring  to  possible  further 
examinations,  ‘  I  should  like  to  know  what  I  am 
going  to  take  as  a  profession,  but  I  cannot  decide.’ 
Successful  though  he  was  as  a  teacher,  he  does  not 
seem  ever  to  have  contemplated  devoting  himself 
to  the  calling  of  a  schoolmaster.  Probably  his 
strongest  ambition  in  these  early  years  was  to 
become  a  barrister.  During  his  holidays,  it  is  said,1 
he  used  to  spend  much  of  his  time  in  the  Law  Courts 
of  Liverpool,  listening  to  the  speeches  of  contending 
counsel.  And  there  is,  perhaps,  a  further  indica¬ 
tion  of  this  leaning  in  the  fact  that  the  only  allusion, 
in  the  small  batch  of  his  home  letters  which  have 
been  preserved,  to  any  events  outside  the  world  of 
home,  school,  and  Church,  is  to  the  famous  Tich- 
borne  trial.  But  his  conversion,  the  influence  of 
his  father’s  example,  and  his  own  keen  interest  in 

1  Obituary  notice,  M mutes  of  Conference,  1921. 


EARLY  YEARS 


11 


all  the  activities  of  his  Church,  together  with  the 
judgment  of  others  who  watched  his  steadily 
developing  powers,  all  combined  to  draw  him  another 
way,  and  in  the  spring  of  1877  he  offered  himself  as 
a  candidate  for  the  Wesleyan  Methodist  ministry. 
The  only  reference  that  I  have  been  able  to  discover 
to  his  experiences  under  the  manifold  tests  to  which 
all  such  candidates  must  submit  themselves  is  in  a 
speech  delivered  by  himself  during  his  year  of  office 
as  President  of  the  Conference.  Speaking  at  a 
crowded  meeting  in  the  old  Standishgate  Church, 
Wigan,  he  said,  4  This  is  not  the  first  time  I  have 
spoken  in  this  place.  I  preached  one  of  my  trial 
sermons  here,  and  I  had  then  an  audience  of  nine. 
They  tried  to  sing  the  first  hymn  three  times, 
and  broke  down  each  time.  The  superintendent 
minister  reported  that  the  young  man  preached 
fairly  well,  but  lacked  fire  !  That  report,’  Collier 
added,  ‘  nearly  damned  my  reputation  as  an 
evangelist.’  However,  he  got  through,  and  the 
next  autumn  he  was  sent  to  Didsbury  College, 
Manchester,  to  begin  his  training  for  the  work  of 
his  life. 

During  the  summer  of  the  same  year  Collier 
received  the  following  letter  from  his  old  head 
master  : — 

4  My  dear  Collier, — Now  that  all  is  clear, 
so  far  as  I  can  see,  for  your  going  to  Didsbury, 
I  must  send  a  line  to  congratulate  you  and  say 
how  pleased  I  am  that  your  footsteps  have  been 
directed  thitherward.  I  think  I  can  see  the 


12 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


hand  of  the  Lord  in  this  ;  doubtless  you  can 
also.  Years  ago  I  thought  your  providential 
path  lay  in  the  direction  you  have  chosen,  and 
you  will  scarcely  believe  it,  or  at  any  rate  are 
scarcely  prepared  to  hear  me  say  how  much  my 
heart  ached  if  I  saw  the  slightest  divergence, 
as  I  fancied,  from  that  path.  I  prayed  that 
your  Heavenly  Father  would  guide  you,  and  I 
prayed  too  that  I  might  have  grace  and  wisdom 
vouchsafed  to  say  a  word  to  help  to  form  your 
character  for  this  important,  awfully  important, 
work  of  the  ministry. 

4  From  time  to  time  I  hope  to  see  you  to  hear 
how  you  are  getting  on,  when  I  shall  probably 
take  the  opportunity  and  the  liberty  of  advising, 
praising,  or  blaming,  as  the  case  may  be.  If 
the  latter,  you  know  what  wonderful  energy  I 
can  throw  into  a  scolding.  So,  beware,  young 
man  !  If  I  have  reason  to  think  you  are  not 
studying  according  to  a  system ,  if  I  find  you  have 
not  a  well-ordered  routine  to  which  you  are 
closely  sticking,  if  I  have  reason  to  think  you 
are  not  setting  your  face  like  a  rock  against  all 
the  enticements  of  your  good-natured  friends  to 
take  you  from  that  routine,  then,  then ,  then, 
unhappy  youth  !  a  storm  rising  in  Bickerton 
House  will  crash  about  your  poor  devoted  head. 
Comprenez-vous  ? 

4 1  must  take  this  opportunity  of  thanking 
you  for  all  the  good  you  have  done  among  my 
boys.  God  has  blessed  your  care  and  anxiety 
to  their  good.  All  the  boys,  young  and  old, 
and  not  only  the  boys  but  the  masters  and 
household,  regret  your  leaving.  To  continue 
the  good  you  have  done  you  cannot  do  better 

than  write  occasionally  to  -  and  - A  I 

shall  be  glad  to  know  you  are  doing  this. 

1  Presumably  boys  who  had  been  specially  committed  to  Collier’s  care. 


EARLY  YEARS 


13 


*  And  now  I  have  only  to  say  that  any  time 
you  will  be  very  welcome  at  my  house  and 
among  my  family.  In  the  kind  note  I  got 
from  you  you  said  Bickerton  House  had  been 
to  you  as  a  home  ;  please  consider  it  still  as 
such.  Visit  us  when  you  have  opportunity  and 
you  will  soon  find  that  the  house  is  still  open 
to  you. 

‘  God  bless  and  guide  you  ! — Yours  affection¬ 
ately,  H.  Math  win.’ 

The  letter  is  interesting  alike  as  a  revelation  of 
the  kindly  heart  of  the  worthy  schoolmaster  and 
of  the  place  which  Collier  had  won  for  himself  in 
the  life  of  the  school.  The  words  about  his  per¬ 
sonal  influence  with  the  boys  were  no  idle  compli¬ 
ment.  Mr.  Mathwin’s  daughter-in-law  tells  me 
that  it  was  no  uncommon  thing  for  unusually 
difficult  cases  to  be  put  under  his  special  care  :  she 
remembers  one  instance  in  which  a  boy’s  movements 
from  class  to  class  were  determined  entirely  by 
Collier’s,  in  order  that  the  two  might  not  be  separ¬ 
ated.  It  is  pleasant,  too,  to  know  that  the  happy 
personal  relations  which  the  letter  indicates  were 
maintained  to  the  last.  At  Mr.  Mathwin’s  death, 
as  we  have  already  seen,  and  again  at  his  son’s  and 
grandson’s — a  victim  of  the  Great  War — it  fell  to 
Collier  to  pay  the  last  tribute  of  affection  and 
esteem.  Not  less  enduring  were  the  ties  which 
bound  him  to  his  old  school-fellows.  4  One  vivid 
memory,’  a  colleague  of  later  years  writes,  4  is  of 
my  dropping  in  on  him  on  the  eve  of  a  Mission 
Anniversary  to  find  him  busily  conning  a  small 


14 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


memorandum  book  of  subscribers.  In  reply  to 
my  inquiry  as  to  how  things  were  going  he  told  me, 
tapping  the  book  as  he  did  so,  that  no  less  than 
thirteen  hundred  pounds  out  of  the  three  thousand 
odd  that  he  was  asking  for  that  year  had  come,  or 
was  coming,  out  of  the  pockets  of  the  old  boys  of 
Bickerton  House,  Southport,  his  own  old  school 
of  which  he  always  spoke  with  great  affection.’ 

The  usual  period  of  college  residence  for  a  student 
preparing  for  the  ministry  of  the  Wesleyan  Method¬ 
ist  Church  is  three  years,1  followed  by  four  on  pro¬ 
bation.  In  Collier’s  case  the  college  term  was 
extended  by  a  year  in  consequence  of  a  break-down 
in  his  health,  so  that  Didsbury  continued  to  be  his 
home  from  1877  to  1881 — four  of  the  forty  years 
which  in  all  he  was  destined  to  spend  within  the 
Manchester  area.  On  the  staff  of  the  college  at 
that  time  were  Dr.  J.  Dury  Geden,  a  member  of  the 
Old  Testament  Revision  Company,  and  Dr.  W.  Burt 
Pope,  4  theologian,  mystic,  saint,’  as  he  is  rightly 
named  in  the  tablet  to  his  memory  in  the  college 
chapel.  But  nothing  remains  to  indicate  the 
nature  or  extent  of  the  young  student’s  debt  to 
these  devout  and  learned  teachers.  Perhaps,  as 
not  infrequently  happens,  he  gained  more  from  the 
friendly  clash  of  mind  with  mind  in  the  frank  and 
free  fellowship  of  college  life  than  in  the  more  formal 
instruction  of  the  class-room.  His  relations  with 

1  Iu  comparing  this  with,  say,  the  seven  years  of  a  Scottish  Presby¬ 
terian  student’s  life,  account  must  be  taken  both  of  the  greater  length 
of  the  college  year— from  the  beginning  of  September  to  the  middle  of 
June — and  of  the  four  probationary  years  that  follow. 


EARLY  YEARS 


15 


his  fellow-students  were  of  the  happiest  kind.  In 
the  limp  Didsbury  air,  as  J.  M.  Barrie  said  of  old 
John  Stuart  Blackie,  Collier  carried  his  breeze  with 
him.  Who  could  withstand  the  infection  of  that 
light-hearted  laugh  ?  On  the  cricket  field  he  re¬ 
peated  his  Bickerton  House  exploits,  so  that  when 
he  was  President  old  Didsbury  associates  would 
often  introduce  him  as  the  man  who  used  to  bowl 
them  out.  He  had,  too,  as  many  a  fellow-worker 
learned  in  after  years,  the  gift  of  talking  plainly 
to  a  man  for  his  good  without  forfeiting  his  good¬ 
will.  4 1  was  very  young  when  I  went  to  Didsbury,’ 
writes  a  fellow-student  who  has  since  risen  to  high 
Connexional  office,  4  and  he  was  a  third  year  man 
when  I  entered.  As  a  Southerner,  I  suppose  I  was 
a  little  bit  shy  and  somewhat  reserved,  and  this 
was  mistaken  by  some  of  my  friends  ;  for  one  day 
Collier  called  me  into  his  “  den,”  gave  me  a  tre¬ 
mendous  rating  for  putting  on  so  much  “  side,” 
and  told  me  I  was  making  myself  somewhat  dis¬ 
liked  by  the  men  generally.  It  came  as  a  surprise, 
but  it  was  a  wholesome  corrective.’ 

As  a  student,  while  his  scholastic  record  was  in 
no  way  remarkable,  Collier  continued  the  good 
work  he  had  begun  at  Bickerton  House  and  kept 
his  place  among  the  best  men  of  the  college.  In 
1878  he  passed  the  4  Inter  Arts  ’  examination  of 
the  London  University,  and  secured  the  first  prize 
offered  to  the  men  of  his  year.  At  that  time, 
apparently,  mathematics  was  his  favourite  study  ; 
and,  though  one  does  not  usually  associate  conic 


16 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


sections  with  the  founder  of  the  Manchester  Mission, 
a  younger  contemporary  well  remembers  being 
initiated  by  him  into  the  mysteries  of  the  ellipse 
and  the  parabola.  He  was  also  one  of  a  small 
group  of  men  who  studied  together  Hebrew  and 
the  Greek  Testament.  They  were  S.  F.  Collier, 

F.  L.  Wiseman,  F.  J.  Nance,  V.  W.  Pearson,  and 

G.  J.  Ayre.  Three  out  of  the  five,  it  is  worthy  of 
note,  have  since  been  Presidents  of  the  Conference 
— Collier  and  Wiseman  in  England,  Nance  in 
Australia.  Indeed,  the  impression  made  on  the 
mind  of  the  younger  contemporary  already  quoted 
was  that  of  a  student,  quiet  and  restrained,  logical 
and  didactic,  one  more  likely  to  develop  into  a 
college  tutor  than  the  head  of  a  great  city  mission. 
But  this  is  an  impression  of  the  Southport  days. 
Possibly,  too,  if  ever  at  that  time  Collier  had 
allowed  his  own  thoughts  for  the  future  to  take 
shape,  it  is  in  some  such  form  they  would  have 
floated  before  him.  At  any  rate,  there  is  his  own 
authority  for  saying  that  when  he  entered  college 
he  had  no  consciousness  of  any  special  call  to  do 
the  work  of  an  evangelist.  But  he  had  not  long  been 
at  Didsbury  before  it  grew  plain  alike  to  himself 
and  his  fellows  that  God  had  other  plans  for  him 
than  the  pursuits  of  the  Christian  scholar. 

It  is  usual  for  men  who  are  preparing  for  the 
Wesleyan  Methodist  ministry  to  spend  their  week¬ 
ends  conducting  services  in  the  churches  of  the 
towns  and  villages  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the 
college  which  they  attend.  From  the  strictly 


EARLY  YEARS 


17 


academic  point  of  view  the  custom  is  open  to  very 
obvious  criticism,  for  it  makes  serious  inroads  upon 
the  time  available  for  classes  and  study  ;  on  the 
other  hand,  it  has  very  real  compensations  for  the 
students  themselves,  and  it  may  be  hoped  also 
for  the  churches  which  they  serve.  A  detailed 
register  which  Collier  kept  during  his  four  years 
at  Didsbury  shows  that  altogether  he  conducted 
no  fewer  than  from  three  to  four  hundred  of  these 
Sunday  services.  The  register  contains  a  list, 
not  only  of  the  places  which  he  visited,  and  the 
homes  in  which  he  stayed,  but  also  of  the  texts 
from  which  he  preached,  together  with  some  brief 
general  ‘  remarks.’  The  entries  under  both  these 
latter  heads  show  quite  plainly  the  steady  drift 
of  his  mind.  The  text  from  which  he  preached 
most  frequently — students  have  not  usually  many 
sermons  :  we  are  all  familiar  with  the  ancient  jests 
about  the  two  dried  tongues  in  the  week-end  bag — 
was  Heb.  vii.  25  :  4  Able  to  save  to  the  uttermost.’ 
In  the  column  for  4  remarks  ’  are  jottings  like  these 
— interspersed,  of  course,  with  others  in  a  more 
subdued  key  : — 

4  Preached  in  morning  outside.  School-room 
full  in  afternoon.  Preached  from  5  to  6  o’clock 
outside.  Good  congregation  afterwards  in  chapel. 
About  twelve  found  the  Saviour.’ 

4  Very  good  day.  Addressed  Sunday  School 
in  afternoon.  Preached  new  sermon  in  the 
evening'.  Two  or  three  decided.’ 

4  Good  times.  H - gave  his  heart  to  God  ; 

so  others.9 


B 


18 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


4  Very  poor  congregation,  or  only  moderate, 
in  the  morning.  Very  good  in  the  evening. 
Enjoyed  the  day,  and  God  was  with  us  in  mani¬ 
fested  power.’ 

Old  Didsbury  men  who  recall  their  own  experi¬ 
ences  in  the  college  chapel  pulpit  at  the  Thursday 
evening  service  will  be  interested  in  this  :  4  Very 
good  time.  Mr.  Geden  thanked  me.  1  felt  God 
helped  me.  Remember  this ,  and  never  forget  the 
help.’  The  following,  too,  deserves  note  as  con¬ 
taining  Collier’s  first  mention  of  a  man  who  was  so 
powerfully  to  influence  the  whole  of  his  own  future 
life  and  work  :  4  Invited  to  open  new  mission  room 
[at  Oldham].  Place  full  both  services.  Many  from 
Manchester  Street.  Rev.  H.  J.  Pope  present.’ 
But  perhaps  the  most  significant  of  all  these 
entries  is  the  first.  The  day  was  spent  at  Lower 
and  Higher  Disley,  in  Cheshire  :  4  Enjoyed  each 
service  exceedingly.  At  evening  service  six  peni¬ 
tents,  five  young  men  and  a  woman,  found 
peace.’ 

It  was  this  experience  of  his  first  Sunday  at 
college — again  there  is  Collier’s  own  authority  for 
the  statement — which  determined  his  career ;  he 
had  seen  the  heavenly  vision,  and  he  dare  not 
disobey  ;  henceforth  he  knew  himself  set  to  do 
the  work  of  an  evangelist.  Nor  did  he  wait  till 
college  days  were  over  in  order  to  make  a  beginning. 
About  a  mile  from  Didsbury,  in  what  was  then  the 
village  of  Heaton  Mersey,  was  a  small  and  struggling 
Methodist  society.  Hard  by,  scores  of  navvies  were 


EARLY  YEARS 


19 


engaged  in  making  a  new  railway  from  Stockport  to 
Manchester.  In  this  double  fact  Collier  saw  his 
opportunity.  He  brought  the  matter  up  at  the 
college  supper-table,  and  a  plan  of  campaign  was 
agreed  upon.  Collier  himself,  of  course,  was  ap¬ 
pointed  commander-in-chief,  and  during  a  special 
three  weeks’  mission  he  daily  led  his  fellow-students 
in  squads  to  the  village.  He  used  every  device  that 
his  inventive  wit  could  suggest  to  attract  the  people 
and  compel  them  to  come  in.  He  visited  the  ale¬ 
houses  ;  he  made  friends  with  the  navvies  ;  he 
patrolled  the  village  streets  ringing  the  college 
dinner-bell ;  he  held  open-air  meetings  in  all 
weathers  ;  and,  finally,  by  a  bold  and  clever  stroke 
of  policy,  he  secured  the  good-will  of  a  rather 
doubtful  and  reluctant  vicar.  All  this  meant  in¬ 
evitable  and  serious  interference  with  the  work 
of  the  class-room  and  the  study.  It  is  even  said 
that  in  Collier’s  own  case  the  authorities  of  the 
college  consented  for  a  time  to  release  him  from 
the  usual  obligations  of  a  student’s  life.  Certain 
it  is  that  he  never  repeated  the  academic  successes 
of  his  first  year.  But  however  much,  on  general 
grounds,  we  may  doubt  the  wisdom  of  such  a 
course,  and  however  little  we  should  be  justified 
in  arguing  from  an  exceptional  case  like  Collier’s, 
no  one  will  deny  the  value  to  him  of  this  early 
evangelistic  experiment.  He  missed  his  degree, 
but  the  navvies  and  ale-houses  of  Heaton  Mersey 
taught  him  some  things  which  he  could  never 
have  learned  from  the  lectures  of  William  Burt 


20 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


Pope  or  John  Dury  Geden.  We  may  regret  that 
a  choice  had  to  be  made,  for,  like  all  students  for 
the  Christian  ministry,  he  needed  both  ;  yet  when 

we  look  back  to-day  and  see  how  4  the  Bishop  of 

■ 

Heaton  Mersey  * — as  he  was  often  playfully  called 
— was  preparing  the  way  for  the  future  head  of  the 
Manchester  Mission,  it  is  perhaps  best  to  be  silent : 
4  There  is  a  Hand  that  guides.’  1 

There  is  one  question  which  may  be  asked  before 
we  leave  Didsbury  to  follow  Collier  into  the  larger 
life  of  his  public  ministry.  Did  he  pass  through 
any  sharp  mental  and  spiritual  crisis  such  as  some¬ 
times  has  made  college  days  for  ever  unforgettable 
to  a  man  ?  One  of  his  old  Didsbury  friends,  in 
a  letter  to  the  Methodist  Recorder ,  written  just  after 
Collier’s  death,  says  that  4  he  passed  through  a 
severe  and  prolonged  spiritual  crisis  which  searched 
his  soul  to  the  very  depths.’  What  exactly  lies 
behind  this  I  do  not  know.  No  details  are  given, 
nor  have  I  come  upon  any  other  allusions  to  such 
a  conflict,  either  then  or  at  any  later  time.  A 
small  book  of  manuscript  prayers  remains,  dated 
1881 — the  year  he  left  Didsbury — but  the  entries 
are  very  few,  and  these  mainly  in  preparation  for 
the  conduct  of  public  worship.  There  are  in  them 
no  marks  of  spiritual  struggle,  nor  any  intimate 

1  Another  entry  in  the  register  of  college  appointments,  dated  Dec. 
31,  1878,  is  :  ‘  Heaton  Mersey — Good  time.  Presented  with  Geikie’s  Life 
of  Christ.’  Thirty-five  years  later,  hy  an  interesting  coincidence,  his  son, 
Donald,  preached  one  of  his  trial  sermons  as  a  candidate  for  the  ministry 
in  the  handsome  church  at  Heaton  Mersey  which  his  father’s  successful 
labours  had  made  both  possible  and  necessary. 


EARLY  YEARS 


21 


self-revelations  of  any  kind  whatever.  The  truth 
is,  Collier  was  the  least  introspective  of  men. 
He  saw  religion  almost  wholly  from  the  practical 
side.  It  was  for  him  mainly  a  problem,  not  for 
thought,  nor  for  thought  and  life,  but  simply  for 
life.  It  is  significant  that  when,  many  years  after, 
a  course  of  Sunday  afternoon  lectures  was  given 
in  the  Central  Hall,  Manchester,  in  defence  of 
Christianity  and  in  reply  to  Robert  Blatchford, 
Collier  chose  as  his  own  subject,  4  The  Miracle  of 
Changed  Lives.’  Of  course  he  believed  in  the 
miracles  of  the  New  Testament,  and  would  have 
been  ready  to  justify  his  faith ;  but  his  chief 
interest  was  in  the  miracles,  the  moral  miracles, 
of  to-day.  With  all  his  heart  he  would  have 
agreed  with  Dr.  Denney  when  he  says  that  the 
proof  of  the  Gospel  is  4  dynamical,  not  logical.  It 
is  demonstrated,  not  by  argument,  but  by  what  it 
does.’  I  am  not,  I  hope,  misjudging  my  friend 
in  saying  this  ;  it  is  the  impression  which  he  always 
left  upon  my  mind,  and  I  can  recall  nothing  that 
he  ever  said  or  wrote  which  contradicts  it. 


CHAPTER  II 


TRYING  HIS  WINGS 
1881-1885 

Collier  left  Didsbury  in  the  summer  of  1881,  and 
at  the  ensuing  Conference  received  his  first  appoint¬ 
ment.  It  proved  to  be  of  a  wholly  unexpected 
character  :  he  was  appointed  ‘  District  Missionary  ’ 
in  Kent.  For  the  sake  of  those  who  are  unfamiliar 
with  Methodist  phraseology,  it  may  be  explained 
that  British  Wesleyan  Methodism  is  divided,  for 
the  purposes  of  ecclesiastical  administration,  into 
thirty-five  Districts.  Years  ago  it  was  usual  for 
Conference  to  appoint  in  many  of  these  Districts 
a  young,  unmarried  minister,  of  marked  evangel¬ 
istic  gifts,  to  go  to  and  fro  within  the  District, 
conducting  special  services  in  the  churches,  both 
of  town  and  country,  with  the  purpose  of  quick¬ 
ening  their  spiritual  life,  and  of  bringing  in  the 
4  outsider.’  Influenced,  probably,  by  the  report 
of  what  had  taken  place  at  Heaton  Mersey,  the 
Home  Missionary  Committee  laid  hands  on  Collier, 
and  in  September  he  found  himself  among  the 
hop-fields  and  orchards  of  Kent  with  the  commission 
of  a  roving  evangelist.  It  was  a  task  which 

appealed  in  many  ways  to  his  eager,  adventurous 
22 


TRYING  HIS  WINGS 


23 


spirit,  and  he  threw  himself  into  it  with  character¬ 
istic  ardour.  But  it  brought  with  it  many  draw¬ 
backs  and  not  a  few  perils.  During  the  greater 
part  of  the  year  he  had  no  fixed  abode.  He  moved 
from  town  to  town,  from  village  to  village,  never 
remaining  in  one  place  more  than  two  or  three 
weeks,  and  sometimes  only  for  a  few  days.  His 
mornings  were  given  to  visiting,  his  afternoons 
and  evenings  to  public  services,  both  outdoor  and 
indoor.  Under  such  circumstances,  serious  study 
was  obviously  impossible,  and  a  glance  at  his 
sermon  register  is  sufficient  to  show  that  the  same 
little  handful  of  addresses  had  to  do  duty  again 
and  again.  His  health  suffered,  and  in  every  way 
the  strain  was  greater  than  the  inexperience  and 
immaturity  of  youth  ought  to  be  called  on  to  bear. 
It  is  doubtful,  too,  if  there  were  compensating 
advantages  to  the  churches  which  the  missioner 
served.  In  many  cases,  without  doubt,  real  and 
abiding  good  was  done  ;  but  too  often  the  *  Special 
Mission  5  meant  only  a  brief  spasm  of  unnatural 
activity  which  died  down  again  into  the  old  torpor 
as  soon  as  the  missioner  had  gone  on  his  way. 
Collier  himself  felt  very  keenly  the  futility  of  much 
of  this  here-to-day-and-gone-to-morrow  kind  of 
evangelism,  and  on  the  whole  we  may  be  thankful 
that  his  perilous  vagrancy  came  to  an  end  with  the 
end  of  the  year.  The  Methodist  Church,  too,  it 
may  be  added,  has  since  grown  wiser,  and  now  no 
longer  sends  untried  youth  on  quixotic  adventures 
of  this  kind. 


24 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


For  the  year,  however,  Collier  did  his  duty 
manfully.  There  are,  of  course,  few  now  who  can 
recall  those  far-off  days  in  Kent.  Why  should 
any  one  greatly  concern  himself  with  the  doings 
of  a  young  and  unknown  Methodist  probationer  ? 
One  vivid  little  memory,  however,  survives  and 
may  be  here  reproduced  : — 

4  Dymchurch  is  a  mere  hamlet  on  the  edge 
of  Romney  Marsh,  five  miles  from  Hythe  and 
eight  from  Folkestone.  A  new  chapel  had  just 
been  built  and  opened,  and  Mr.  Collier  held  a 
fortnight’s  Mission  there  in  December  1881. 
He  often  spoke  of  the  drive  thither  in  an  open 
trap,  through  a  blinding  snowstorm  and  a 
terrible  east  wind,  expecting  the  trap  to  over¬ 
turn  every  minute.  In  those  days  the  sea  wall 
had  not  been  built,  and  travellers  along  that 
road  felt  the  full  force  of  the  wind  from  the  sea. 
Those  who  have  travelled  along  it  even  in 
summer,  running  as  it  does  through  a  desolate, 
beach-covered  country,  flanked  on  its  sea  side 
by  weird-looking  Martello  towers,  can  appreciate 
such  a  journey  taken  in  the  depth  of  winter, 
with  the  “  sea-fret  ”  covering  the  marsh,  and 
the  round  towers,  which  at  the  time  of  the 
Napoleonic  fright  had  been  put  along  that  low- 
lying  coast  to  protect  it,  looming  through  the 
fog.  Collier  had  been  directed  to  a  certain 
Methodist  coastguard  who  would  help  him 
and  with  whom  he  was  to  lodge.  A  handful  of 
country  folk  living  on  the  sea-coast  with  a 
strong  44  church  ”  influence  in  their  midst,  the 
arctic  condition  of  the  weather,  the  evangelist 
himself  a  complete  stranger  to  every  one,  Method¬ 
ists  included — were  ever  conditions  more  un¬ 
favourable  to  an  evangelistic  Mission  ?  .  .  . 


TRYING  HIS  WINGS 


25 


Collier’s  way  of  getting  a  start  at  Dymchurch 
was  to  go  to  the  chapel,  open  the  harmonium, 
and  with  the  door  open  and  the  lights  on,  to 
sing  and  play  until  the  people  whom  he  had 
diligently  visited  in  the  day-time  were  gradually 
attracted.’ 

This  is  all  that  I  have  been  able  to  glean  from 
others  of  Collier’s  year  in  the  Kent  District.  For¬ 
tunately,  however,  it  was  his  duty  every  three 
months  to  make  a  detailed  report  of  his  work  to 
his  chief  in  London,  the  Rev.  Alexander  M‘Aulay, 
then  Secretary  of  the  Home  Missionary  Committee. 
These  reports  cover  the  whole  period  from  Sep¬ 
tember  1881  to  May  1882,  and  enable  us  to  follow 
the  movements  of  the  young  missioner  from  week 
to  week  and  almost  from  day  to  day.  It  was  his 
first  experience  of  life  in  the  south  of  England,  and 
on  the  first  page  of  his  first  report  he  comments  on 
the  difference  of  the  soil.  In  towns  like  Rochester 
he  found  the  artisan  population  intelligent  and 
energetic,  but  the  Kentish  peasants  he  thought 
dull  and  unimpressionable.  Forms  of  aggressive 
work,  too,  such  as  open-air  services,  which  to  him 
seemed  as  natural  as  necessary,  were  eyed  rather 
askance  by  some  good  folk  who  appeared  to  think 
that  though  such  things  might  do  for  the  Salvation 
Army,  they  were  hardly  4  respectable  ’  enough  for 
the  people  called  Methodists.  But  nobody  ever 
understood  better  the  art  of  getting  people  to 
shoulder  unwanted  burdens  than  did  S.  F.  Collier, 
and  as  a  rule  zeal  and  good  nature  together  got 


26  COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 

\ 

the  victory.  At  Sandwich,  where  the  soil  seemed 
unusually  hard,  he  remembered  Heaton  Mersey 
and  the  old  college  dinner-bell,  and  sent  the  town- 
crier  round  to  announce  the  services.  He  worked 
himself  unsparingly.  Here  is  one  normal  Sunday’s 
programme  : — 

7.0 — Prayer  Meeting. 

11.0 — Public  Worship. 

2.30 —  Children’s  Service. 

6.0 — Open-air  Service. 

6.30 —  Public  Worship,  with  After-meeting. 

In  a  three  weeks’  campaign  in  Rochester  and  the 
neighbouring  villages  he  conducted  18  mid-day 
prayer-meetings,  3  children’s  services,  15  open-air 
services,  20  preaching  services,  besides  two  or  three 
hours’  visiting  daily.  Lie  made  it  a  rule,  it  should 
be  said,  as  far  as  possible,  to  visit  every  morning 
the  4  inquirers  ’  of  the  previous  evening,  for  his  own 
sake  as  well  as  for  theirs. 

One  little  incident  of  the  year  in  Kent  deserves 
mention,  perhaps,  as  an  early  example  of  the  power 
which  Collier  afterwards  used  to  such  good  effect 
upon  the  wealthy  merchants  of  Manchester.  A 
meeting  was  being  held  at  Rochester  at  which  it 
was  stated  that  £30  was  needed  to  carry  through 
a  programme  of  aggressive  Christian  work  during 
the  winter.  After  the  collection  had  been  taken 
£5  was  still  wanting  to  make  up  the  total.  Collier 
begged  for  the  balance  at  once,  and  got  it,  money 
being  literally  thrown  at  him  as  he  stood  on  the 


TRYING  HIS  WINGS 


27 


platform  and  talked.  One  rough  fellow — a  cooper 
whom  he  had  visited  in  his  workshop — created  no 
little  amusement  by  calling  out,  suiting  the  action 
to  the  word  as  he  spoke,  4  Here,  mate,  here ’s 
another  bob  !  ’ 

At  the  end  of  Collier’s  first  report  to  the  Home 
Missionary  Secretary  there  is  a  note  appended  by 
the  Chairman  of  the  Kent  District  which  reads  as 
follows  :  4  I  have  much  pleasure  in  testifying  to 
the  fidelity,  devotedness,  and  propriety  with  which 
the  Rev.  S.  F.  Collier  has  worked  out  our  arrange¬ 
ments  for  the  Mission  in  the  Kent  District.’  *  Fidel¬ 
ity  and  devotedness  ’ — yes,  beyond  a  doubt ;  but 
4  propriety  ’  ?  Collier  was  never,  either  during  his 
year  in  Kent  or  at  any  other  time,  an  evangelist 
of  the  uproariously  sensational  type.  On  the  other 
hand,  he  never  danced  attendance  on  Dame  Pro¬ 
priety  ;  there  were  times,  indeed,  when  he  laughed 
her  full  in  the  face  ;  and  his  laugh  would  certainly 
have  been  good  to  hear  when  he  read  the  rather 
oddly  phrased  commendation  of  his  Chairman. 

One  other  point  in  these  old  manuscript  reports 
which  should  be  noted  is  their  entire  absorption 
in  the  matter  in  hand.  One  would  hardly  expect 
in  documents  of  this  kind  allusions  to  the  natural 
beauty  of  Kent,  or  to  the  literary  and  historical 
associations  in  which  the  county  abounds.  But 
even  when  he  visits  Winchelsea — that  lovely  retreat 
of  quaint,  old-world  beauty — the  young  evangelist 
does  not  seem  to  remember  that  there,  less  than  a 
hundred  years  before,  John  Wesley,  4  in  age  and 


28 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


feebleness  and  extreme,’  under  a  large  tree  near 
the  ruined  church,  had  preached  his  last  open-air 
sermon.  Some  one  has  pointed  out  the  striking 
contrast  between  the  dominant  interest  in  St.  Paul’s 
mind  when  he  says,  I  must  see  Rome ,  and  that  which 
the  words  would  ordinarily  reveal.  The  Apostle 
was  eager  to  visit  the  imperial  city  only  because  he 
was  eager  to  preach  there  also  the  gospel  of  Christ. 
Every  other  ambition  had  been  lost  in  this.  And 
just  as  he  passed  through  the  Graeco-Roman  world 
of  his  day,  apparently  unstirred  by  any  of  the 
famous  scenes  upon  which  his  eyes  must  have 
rested,  so  this  young  Methodist  preacher  entered 
the  towns  and  villages  of  Kent  with  eyes  and  ears 
for  only  one  thing — how  he  might  move  men  to 
turn  from  their  sins  to  serve  the  living  God.  ‘  Oft 
when  the  Word  is  on  me  to  deliver  ’ — Collier  did 
not  deal  much  in  quotations  from  English  literature, 
but  this  from  Myers’  famous  poem  was  one  of  his 
favourites : — 

‘  Oft  when  the  Word  is  on  me  to  deliver 
Opens  the  heaven  and  the  Lord  is  there  ; 

Desert  or  throng,  the  city  or  the  river, 

Melt  in  a  lucid  Paradise  of  air, — 

Only  like  souls  I  see  the  folk  thereunder, 

Bound  who  should  conquer,  slaves  who  should  be  kings, — 

Hearing  their  one  hope  with  an  empty  wonder, 

Sadly  contented  in  a  show  of  things ; — 

Then  with  a  rush  the  intolerable  craving 

Shivers  throughout  me  like  a  trumpet-call, — 

Oh,  to  save  these  !  to  perish  for  their  saving, 

Die  for  their  life,  be  offered  for  them  all.’ 


TRYING  HIS  WINGS 


29 


At  the  end  of  his  year  in  Kent  Collier  was  ap¬ 
pointed  to  a  4  circuit,’  which  signifies,  in  the 
Methodist  dialect,  a  group  of  churches  worked 
conjointly  by  one,  two,  or  more  ministers,  assisted 
by  a  staff  of  voluntary  lay  preachers.  Collier’s 
circuit  was  Brentford,  in  Middlesex,  which  included 
within  its  boundaries  Twickenham  and  Hounslow. 
Here  his  next  three  years  (1882-1885)  were  spent 
— the  first  two  at  Twickenham,  the  last  at  Hounslow. 
Unfortunately,  the  record  of  these  years  is  almost 
a  complete  blank.  Of  no  period  of  his  life  since 
he  left  home  to  go  to  school  do  we  know  so  little. 
Personal  documents  there  are  none  ;  not  a  single 
letter  remains,  and  the  journal  which  had  been 
kept  with  such  conscientious  detail  in  Kent  was 
not  resumed.  In  1884  a  somewhat  serious  illness 
proved  the  opportunity  for  a  holiday  of  several 
weeks  in  Switzerland,  where  a  rough  kind  of  diary 
was  kept,  but  it  tails  off  rather  badly,  and  even 
at  its  best  is  little  more  than  a  somewhat  colourless 
catalogue  of  the  usual  things  which  are  seen  and 
done  by  every  Swiss  tourist.  Collier  was  never 
the  kind  of  man  to  write  a  Journal  Intime  ;  he  had 
none  of  that  genius  for  self-revelation  which  lightens 
so  materially  the  task  of  a  biographer,  and  at  the 
same  time  enhances  so  greatly  the  joy  of  the 
reader. 

The  interest  of  these  three  years,  then,  lies  almost 
exclusively  in  the  opportunity  which  they  gave 
Collier  of  putting  into  practice  and  testing  some 
of  his  theories  of  successful  church  work.  The 


30 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


circuit  system,  as  it  was  then  worked,  made  a 
continuous  ministry  in  the  same  pulpit  impossible  : 
the  young  man  had  to  take  his  turn  with  his  senior 
colleagues.  He  resolved,  therefore,  to  see  what 
could  be  done  by  thorough  and  systematic  methods 
of  pastoral  visitation.  A  little  note-book  lies  before 
me  now  in  which  he  entered,  not  only  the  names 
and  addresses  of  his  people,  but  all  manner  of 
personal  and  domestic  details  that  might  be  of 
service  to  him  as  he  went  on  his  rounds — the  father’s 
occupation,  the  names  of  the  children,  recent  family 
sorrows,  and  such  like.  Not  only  so,  he  taught  and 
trained  a  large  band  of  workers  to  share  with  him 
the  responsibility  of  ministering  to  the  spiritual 
needs  of  their  own  neighbourhood  ;  and  he  did  it 
in  this  way.  Finding  it  impossible  to  be  in  his 
own  pulpit  regularly  on  Sunday  evenings,  in  con¬ 
sequence  of  the  claims  of  other  parts  of  the  circuit, 
he  made  a  bargain  with  his  Superintendent :  4  Give 
me,’  he  said,  ‘  one  night  a  week  which  I  can  call 
mine.’  It  was  done.  Then  he  invited  all  those 
who  were  prepared  to  join  in  a  bit  of  definite 
aggressive  evangelism  to  meet  with  him  on  that 
night.  At  the  first  meeting  twelve  were  present. 
He  told  them  that  he  should  always  be  there  on 
that  night  for  prayer  and  praise,  and  for  conference 
on  Christian  work.  The  numbers  grew  steadily 
until  they  reached  nearly  a  hundred,  and  on  them, 
according  to  their  willingness  and  ability,  he  laid 
tasks  of  Christian  service.  ‘  No  time  is  better 
spent,’  he  told  his  ministerial  brethren  from  the 


TRYING  HIS  WINGS 


31 


Chair  of  the  Plymouth  Conference  in  1913,  4  than 
that  in  training  workers.’ 

4  But,’  he  went  on,  4  it  requires  great  patience 
and  persistency.  Teach  them  to  visit,  to  con¬ 
duct  cottage-meetings  and  lodging-house  ser¬ 
vices,  to  lead  sinners  to  Christ,  to  conduct  clubs 
for  the  young,  to  work  in  the  Sunday  School, 
to  engage  in  all  kinds  of  Christian  and  phil¬ 
anthropic  work.  Gather  them  together,  so  that 
you  may  collect  all  the  results  of  their  work  as 
information  for  yourself  in  your  work.  You 
will  multiply  yourself  again  and  again  by  this 
means,  and  enlarge  your  influence  beyond  your 
dreams.  To  leave  a  band  of  devoted  workers 
in  a  circuit,  men  and  women  who  were  idle  when 
you  entered  the  circuit  and  are  now  busy  for 
God,  is  to  have  accomplished  lasting  good.’ 

In  saying  this  it  was  probably  his  old  Twickenham 
and  Hounslow  days  that  he  had  in  mind.  Else¬ 
where  1  he  has  told  in  greater  detail  how  he  put  his 
own  counsels  into  practice.  The  methods  adopted, 
he  says,  4  when  I  had  to  face  the  problem  of  filling 
a  circuit  chapel  and  make  my  first  attempt  at  church 
organisation,’  were  as  follows  : — 

4  1.  The  whole  district  was  canvassed  three 
times  within  the  first  month.  The  workers  met 
to  supply  me  with  all  the  information  that  they 
had  gathered  about  non-worshippers,  lapsed 
worshippers,  children  who  did  not  attend  Sunday 
School,  the  social  conditions  of  the  people,  etc. 

‘  2.  To  those  who  had  been  able  to  undertake 
this  special  canvass  an  appeal  was  made  for 

1  In  a  foreword  to  a  little  pamphlet.  The  Christian  Workers’  Association , 
by  John  Hugh  Morgan. 


32 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


visitors  who  could  visit  regularly  ten,  twenty, 
or  thirty  houses  weekly. 

4  3.  An  arrangement  was  made  to  meet  them, 
at  first  once  a  fortnight,  and  afterwards  once 
a  month,  to  train  by  suggestion,  to  receive 
reports,  and  to  keep  in  touch  with  the  sick,  poor, 
non-worshippers,  newcomers  into  the  district, 
etc. 

4 4.  A  “Button-holing  Brigade”  was  formed 
to  invite  loiterers  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the 
chapel  during  the  half-hour  before  the  service. 

4  5.  Suitable  officials  were  stationed  in  the 
porch  and  aisles  to  act  as  welcomers  to  strangers. 

4  6.  The  chapel  was  divided  into  sections,  and 
over  each  section  a  worker  was  appointed  to 
welcome  strangers,  and  to  secure  their  names 
and  addresses,  which  were  handed  to  the  minister 
at  a  special  meeting  on  the  Monday  night. 

4  7.  Sections  of  work— open-air  and  cottage 
services,  relief,  and  other  evangelical  and  social 
agencies — were  formed. 

4  8.  All  sections  of  the  work  were  combined  in 
a  Christian  Workers’  Association.  The  workers 
were  invited  to  meet  after  the  prayer-meeting 
on  the  Monday  night,  and  especially  at  the 
appointed  meeting  of  the  Association  held  at 
first  fortnightly,  and  afterwards  monthly.’ 


Such  were  the  methods  employed,  and  by  means 
of  them,  Collier  himself  declared,  the  chapel  of 
which  he  had  special  charge  was  filled  in  three 
months,  though  he  had  only  three  Sunday  appoint¬ 
ments  during  that  time.  Nor  was  he  ever  moved 
from  his  purpose  by  those  who,  hearing  as  they 
thought  the  clatter  of  too  much  machinery,  raised 
the  old  cry  of  1  over-organisation.’  4 1  am  tired,’ 


TRYING  HIS  WINGS 


33 


he  told  the  Conference,  in  the  address  which  has 
already  been  quoted,  4  of  the  cry  that  we  are  over- 
organised.’ 

4  Many  churches  are  badly  organised  ;  they 
are  busy  and  bustling,  the  programme  is  full 
of  all  sorts  of  efforts  without  any  unity  of  aim, 
without  any  controlling  hand,  without  any 
centrality  of  purpose,  everybody  doing  that 
which  is  right  in  his  own  eyes,  sections  clashing 
with  each  other,  work  without  system.  That 
is  not  or;er-organisation  ;  it  is  either  faulty  organ¬ 
isation  or  else  failure  to  organise.  What  is 
needed  is  the  gathering  of  all  sections  into  one 
association  of  workers,  under  the  sympathetic 
guidance  and  wise  control  of  the  minister  as 
leader.’ 

There  are  those  still  living  who  recall  with  en¬ 
thusiasm  the  stir  which  the  young  Methodist 
preacher — he  was  still  only  in  his  twenties — made 
in  the  dull  and  decorous  round  of  their  church  life. 
Nor  was  it  only  among  his  own  folk  that  he  attained 
a  good  report.  At  his  farewell  meeting  the  local 
Roman  Catholic  priest  was  one  of  the  crowd  which 
filled  the  church  to  overflowing,  to  testify  by  his 
presence  his  appreciation  of  Collier  and  his  work. 
But  too  much  must  not  be  made  of  all  this.  It  is 
always  easy  to  4  think  the  rustic  cackle  of  your 
bourg  the  murmur  of  the  world.’  Thus  far  Collier 
had  been  only  trying  his  wings  ;  the  long  and  peril¬ 
ous  flight  which  should  really  test  and  reveal  his 
powers  was  still  to  come.  He  had  shown  unmis¬ 
takable  gifts  of  initiative  and  leadership,  but  only 
in  a  narrow  and  limited  field.  He  was  still  an 


c 


34 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


unknown  man.  The  Brentford  years  had  not 
brought  him  fame  ;  they  had  done  a  better  thing 
— they  had  enabled  him  to  take  the  measure  of 
the  problems  to  be  solved,  and  they  had  revealed 
to  him  the  lines  along  which  he  could  best  make 
his  own  contribution  to  their  solution.  It  was  not 
Collier’s  way  in  after  years  to  overrate  this  first 
chapter  in  his  ministerial  life.  Sometimes,  indeed, 
he  spoke  as  if  he  judged  it  something  of  a  failure. 
It  was  not  that ;  neither  was  it  of  a  kind  to  call  for 
record  or  comment  to-day,  were  it  not  for  what 
came  after.  Kent,  Twickenham,  and  Hounslow 
were  but  stages  on  the  road  to  Manchester,  where 
he  was  to  find  the  work  which  he  came  into  the 
world  to  do. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  MANCHESTER  MISSION 
1885-1921 

This  is  the  third  chapter  of  our  story.  Yet  in  a 
very  real  sense  the  life  of  Collier  has  only  one 
chapter  :  its  name  is  4  Manchester,’  and  it  is  thirty- 
six  years  long.  It  began  when  he  was  within  a 
month  of  his  thirtieth  birthday,  and  it  ended  with 
his  death  in  June  1921.  Any  attempt  to  write 
in  orderly  sequence  the  story  of  these  years  would 
resolve  itself  into  writing  the  history  of  the 
Manchester  Mission,  with  which,  from  this  point 
onwards,  Collier’s  life  is  inextricably  intertwined. 
But  in  this  chapter  we  are  concerned  with  the 
Mission  only  in  so  far  as  it  serves  to  reveal  the  man. 
Moreover,  not  a  little  of  the  relevant  material  will 
be  more  conveniently  distributed  over  the  chapters 
which  follow,  in  which  an  attempt  is  made  to 
bring  out  various  aspects  of  his  character  and 
work.  Even  so  what  remains,  and  is  strictly 
pertinent  to  the  story  of  the  life,  will  require  a 
chapter  of  such  disproportionate  size  that  it  will 
be  well  to  break  it  up  into  a  number  of  smaller 
sub-sections. 


35 


36 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


I.  HOW  THE  MISSION  BEGAN 

4  After  preaching  at  Congleton,  Macclesfield,  and 
Stockport  in  my  way,’ — so  runs  the  entry  in  Wesley’s 
Journal  on  March  30,  1781 — 4 1  opened  the  new 
chapel  at  Manchester,  about  the  size  of  that  in 
London.1  The  whole  congregation  behaved  with 
the  utmost  seriousness.  I  trust  much  good  will 
be  done  in  this  place.’  The  following  Sunday,  he 
goes  on,  4 1  began  reading  prayers  at  ten  o’clock. 
Our  country  friends  flocked  in  from  all  sides.  At 
the  Communion  was  such  a  sight  as  I  am  persuaded 
was  never  seen  at  Manchester  before  :  eleven  or 
twelve  hundred  communicants  at  once,  and  all  of 
them  fearing  God.’  The  scene  was  repeated  several 
times  in  Wesley’s  experience — in  May  1783,  in 
April  1784,  and  again  on  Easter  Sunday,  1790, 
when,  he  says,  4 1  think  we  had  about  one  thousand 
six  hundred  communicants.’  And  during  a  great 
part  of  the  next  century  the  chapel  maintained  the 
glory  of  its  early  days.  When  it  was  first  opened, 
we  are  told,  it  was  thought  by  many  to  be  4  too 
much  in  the  country  ’  (!).  But  the  green  fields 
soon  became  only  a  memory ;  a  vast  new  popula¬ 
tion  sprang  up ;  the  great  chapel  over  which 
Wesley  had  rejoiced  was  crowded  regularly  with 
worshippers.  It  is  even  said  that  at  one  time  4  a 
sitting  could  not  be  secured  unless  the  applicant 


1  A  picture  of  these  two  famous  old  sanctuaries — City  Road,  London, 
and  Oldham  Street,  Manchester — may  be  seen  in  the  f  Standard  Edition  ’ 
of  the  Journal,  vol.  vi.  p.  145. 


THE  MANCHESTER  MISSION 


87 


was  content  to  wait  for  months  and  even  years.5 
‘  Oldham  Street,  Manchester,5  came  to  be  generally 
recognised  as  the  headquarters  of  Lancashire 
Methodism.  But  as  the  century  wore  on,  changes 
which  have  affected  so  profoundly  the  central  areas 
of  our  large  towns  began  to  tell  their  tale  here  also. 
Gradually,  as  the  population  grew  and  commerce 
prospered,  warehouses  took  the  place  of  homes  ; 
the  business  man  no  longer  lived  over  the  shop  ; 
he  worked  in  the  city,  but  he  lived  in  the  suburbs. 
And  so,  one  by  one,  the  old  families  moved  out, 
while  very  few  moved  in  to  take  their  place.  There 
is  no  need  to  dwell  upon  what  is  so  familiar  to  all 
who  have  watched  the  development  of  modern 
city  life ;  it  is  enough  to  say  that,  a  hundred  years 
after  its  triumphant  opening  by  Wesley,  Oldham 
Street  Chapel  lay  derelict.  The  huge  Sunday  con¬ 
gregations  had  dwindled  to  a  tiny  handful  of  fifty 
or  a  hundred.  Scores  of  young  and  prosperous 
churches  had,  it  is  true,  sprung  up  which  looked  to 
Oldham  Street  as  their  mother  church  ;  but  she 
herself  lingered  on  in  a  feeble  and  inglorious  old 
age.  What  was  to  be  done  ? 

One  thing  was  clear :  it  was  impossible,  as 
Dr.  H.  J.  Pope  said,  to  defend  the  retention  of  so 
costly  a  site  in  the  business  centre  of  a  great  city, 
unless  it  could  be  put  to  some  better  use.  The 
chapel  was  rarely  opened  except  on  Sundays,  and 
then  only  for  the  benefit  of  a  few  devout  souls  who 
might  quite  easily  have  been  provided  for  elsewhere. 
Under  the  circumstances  it  is  no  wonder  that  from 


38 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


time  to  time  proposals  were  made  for  the  sale  of 
the  property  and  the  use  of  the  proceeds  in  the 
erection  of  new  churches  in  new  suburban  areas. 
But,  as  Dr.  Pope  justly  argued,  there  is  one  thing 
worse  than  the  sight  of  an  empty  chapel  in  a 
crowded  neighbourhood,  and  that  is  the  sale  of  the 
property  and  the  abandonment  of  the  work.  And 
when  the  money  so  acquired  is  used  for  the  benefit 
of  people  who  are  well  able  to  provide  for  them¬ 
selves,  the  humiliation  is  complete.  Fortunately, 
bolder  and  wiser  counsels  prevailed.  A  few  far- 
seeing  men  saw  in  the  derelict  old  chapel  an  oppor¬ 
tunity  for  Methodism  to  attempt  its  old  work  under 
new  conditions  ;  and  in  the  end  their  advice  to 
retain  the  site  and  to  rebuild  the  property  was 
acted  upon.  This  decision,  it  is  not  too  much  to 
say,  marks  one  of  the  turning  points  in  the  history 
of  modern  Methodism.  It  checked  decisively  that 
facile  and  fatal  policy  of  abandoning  the  centres 
of  great  cities  which  has  become  so  grave  a  re¬ 
proach  to  Protestant  Christianity  alike  in  the  old 
world  and  the  new. 

The  closing  services  of  the  old  chapel  were  held 
on  Thursday,  February  1,  1883.  They  were  con¬ 
ducted,  in  the  morning,  by  Dr.  W.  B.  Pope — 
Collier’s  old  theological  tutor  at  Didsbury — and, 
in  the  evening,  by  the  Rev.  Charles  Garrett,  the 
President  of  the  Conference  of  that  year.  Taking 
as  his  text  Psalm  cxlv.  4,  5,  which  he  read  from 
the  old  Bible  that  Wesley  used  at  the  first  service 
in  the  chapel,  Dr.  Pope  said — I  quote  from  the 


THE  MANCHESTER  MISSION  39 

report  in  the  Manchester  Guardian  of  the  next 

day 

c  The  sentiment  of  the  day  was  a  mingled  one, 
in  which  the  memory  of  the  past  and  the  hope 
of  the  future  strangely  mingled.  Those  final 
services  were  burdened  with  the  weight  of  an 
entire  century  of  most  hallowed  recollections, 
enough,  if  justice  could  be  done  them,  to  impress 
on  the  present  gathering  a  character  of  unspeak¬ 
able  pathos.  But  while  they  must  needs  yield 
themselves  to  reflections  that  saddened  their 
departure  from  that  time-honoured  building, 
they  were  comforted — more  than  comforted, 
they  were  inspired — by  the  thought  of  the  future 
awaiting  them  in  another  building  which  was 
not  another  but  the  same,  where  the  glory  of  the 
old  house  would  reappear,  as  they  believed,  in 
augmented  brightness.  Like  the  Jewish  fathers 
in  the  days  of  Nehemiah  they  remembered  the 
former  house  and  might  weep ;  but  like  the 
children  of  those  fathers  they  rejoiced  over  the 
new  foundation.  The  two  voices  of  sorrow  and 
of  joy  blended  indistinguishably,  but  the  sound 
of  the  rejoicing  predominated  now  as  it  did 
then ;  and,  as  in  the  old  scene,  would  be  heard 
afar  off,  in  the  present  case  to  the  utmost  skirts 
of  the  religious  community  which  they  repre¬ 
sented.  They  paid  their  tribute  to  the  genera¬ 
tions  gone,  who  had  spent  their  lives  and  their 
devotions  there ;  but  they  purposed  to  continue 
both  their  devotions  and  their  work,  transmit¬ 
ting  all  with  increase  to  the  generations  that 
should  be  born.  In  that  hope  they  were  greatly 
solaced,  and  should  go  on  their  way,  sorrowful, 
indeed,  that  they  would  see  that  place  no  more, 
but  always  rejoicing  because  they  would  find 
its  sanctities  renewed  in  another  if  not  a  better 
place.5 


40 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


The  memorial  stones  of  the  new  building  were  laid, 
after  many  disappointing  and  vexatious  delays, 
in  May  1885. 

In  all  these  discussions  and  arrangements,  it 
should  be  clearly  understood,  Collier  himself  had 
not  the  smallest  share.  He  was  still  quietly  at 
work  at  his  post  in  the  south,  knowing  no  more, 
probably,  of  the  new  Methodist  policy  in  Man¬ 
chester  than  its  promoters  knew  of  him.  Not  until 
the  Conference  of  1885  was  the  first  link  forged 
between  him  and  the  future  Mission.  His  con¬ 
nection  with  Manchester  came  about  in  this  way. 
During  the  period  of  reconstruction  it  was  necessary, 
of  course,  to  make  some  provision  for  the  small 
remnant  of  the  old  Oldham  Street  church  and 
congregation.  Sunday  services  were  held  in  the 
Lever  Street  Sunday  School  hard  by,  and  a  young 
minister  was  appointed  to  shepherd  the  little  flock 
until  the  new  fold  was  ready  for  its  reception. 
The  minister  in  charge  was  leaving  at  the  Con¬ 
ference  of  1885,  and  Collier  was  invited  to  become 
his  successor.  At  first  he  declined;  subsequently, 
however,  he  agreed  to  leave  himself  in  the  hands 
of  his  brethren,  with  the  result  that  in  Septem¬ 
ber  of  that  year  he  found  himself  the  pastor  of  a 
little  Methodist  society  numbering  about  forty-five 
members  and  having  its  temporary  home  in  the 
Lever  Street  School. 

It  is  easy  to  understand  Collier’s  reluctance  to 
take  up  this  new  task.  What  possible  attraction 
could  it  have  for  him  or  for  any  man  ?  It  was  not 


THE  MANCHESTER  MISSION 


41 


the  difficulties  of  the  situation  that  daunted  him. 
The  dingy  premises,  the  depressed  remnant — if 
these  had  been  all,  a  man  of  his  mettle  might  have 
found  in  them  both  a  challenge  and  an  opportunity. 
But  the  hard,  cold  fact,  which  Collier  quite  well 
understood,  was  that  he  was  neither  invited  nor 
wanted  for  more  than  one  year.  All  that  the 
Oldham  Street  trustees  at  that  moment  were 
looking  for  was  some  one  who  would  keep  things 
going  during  the  year  that  still  remained  before 
the  new  building  could  be  ready.  It  is  important 
that  this  should  be  made  clear,  because  in  later 
years  it  was  often  assumed,  even  in  Methodist 
circles,  that  Collier’s  invitation  to  Manchester  was 
from  the  first  an  invitation  to  become  the  super¬ 
intendent  of  the  new  Mission.  It  is  certain  that 
nothing  of  the  kind  was  ever  contemplated  by  any 
one,  and  least  of  all  by  Collier  himself.  What  was 
there,  then,  either  of  challenge  or  opportunity  in  an 
invitation  to  become  a  twelve-months’  stop-gap  ? 
Apparently,  what  served  to  reconcile  Collier  to  a 
rather  thankless  and  unenviable  task  was  a  brief 
revival  of  his  old  scholastic  dreams.  In  his  Dids- 
bury  days,  as  we  have  seen,  he  had  passed  the 
4  Inter  Arts  ’  examination  of  London  University, 
and  the  prospect  of  a  year  in  Manchester  suggested 
the  possibility  of  completing  his  degree.  With 
that  end  in  view  he  took  rooms  in  Rumford  Street, 
near  Owens  College,  as  it  then  was,  and  enrolled 
himself  as  one  of  its  students. 

Then  straightway  he  fell  to  work  on  his  one  year’s 


42 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


task  with  a  sublime  forgetfulness  of  everything — 
university  classes  or  Oldham  Street  committees — 
save  the  needs  of  Lever  Street  and  its  neighbour¬ 
hood.  His  first  Sunday  was  not  encouraging : 
there  were  thirty-eight  at  the  morning  service. 
On  the  previous  Sunday,  when  the  congregation 
numbered  thirty-two,  an  old  friend — the  Rev. 
G.  Beesley  Austin — had  been  in  the  pulpit  and  had 
spoken  loud  in  the  new  minister’s  praise.  Collier 
used  to  say  that  he  owed  the  extra  six  to  his  friend’s 
advertisement.  But  he  lost  no  time  in  putting 
into  practice  the  lessons  he  had  learned  at  Twicken¬ 
ham  and  Hounslow.  That  first  Sunday  evening 
saw  him  on  the  streets  with  a  little  band  of  Sunday 
School  teachers  whom  already  he  had  managed 
to  infect  with  his  own  eager  spirit.  The  officials 
of  the  school  seem  to  have  been  rather  shy  of  the 
new  man  and  his  new  ways,  and,  if  report  be  true, 
sometimes  treated  him  in  rather  cavalier  fashion. 
It  made  no  difference  ;  week  after  week  he  was 
there,  and  week  after  week  he  gathered  fresh 
recruits  for  his  aggressive  campaign.  Nor  were 
his  activities  confined  to  Sunday.  He  visited  from 
house  to  house  in  the  crowded  areas  round  Lever 
Street.  He  held  Saturday  afternoon  open-air  ser¬ 
vices  for  children,  in  the  hope  that  through  them 
he  might  be  able  to  reach  their  parents.  He  raided 
the  public-houses,  and  set  up  his  first  Men’s  Club 
by  way  of  an  alternative.  Often  he  walked  the 
streets  of  the  neighbourhood  till  midnight,  that  he 
might  see  for  himself  all  aspects  of  the  problem 


THE  MANCHESTER  MISSION 


43 


which  he  was  there,  first,  to  understand  and  then 
to  solve.1  And  so,  gradually,  the  cloud  at  Lever 
Street  began  to  lift.  Officials  dropped  their  shy¬ 
ness  ;  the  depressed  remnant  took  heart  again  ; 
even  the  people  around  began  to  feel  that  a  new 
light  was  shining  in  the  all-prevailing  grey  ness. 

Meanwhile  what  had  become  of  the  studies  and 
classes  at  Owens  College  ?  Once  more,  and  this 
time  finally,  that  door  was  closed  against  him,  and 
by  his  own  hand.  Whittier’s  noble  lines  about  the 
American  Sumner  tell,  with  the  change  of  a  single 
word,  exactly  how  Collier  felt : — 

‘  No  trumpet  sounded  in  his  ear, 

He  saw  not  Sinai’s  cloud  and  flame, 

But  never  yet  to  Hebrew  seer 
A  clearer  voice  of  duty  came. 

God  said  :  “  Break  thou  these  yokes ;  undo 
These  heavy  burdens.  I  ordain 
A  work  to  last  thy  whole  life  through, 

A  ministry  of  strife  and  pain. 

Forego  thy  dreams  of  lettered  ease, 

Put  thou  the  scholar’s  promise  by, 

The  needs  of  man  are  more  than  these.” 

He  heard,  and  answered  :  “  Here  am  II”’ 

Then  the  unexpected  happened.  The  year  during 
which  things  were  to  be  4  kept  going  ’  was  coming 
to  an  end ;  the  great  new  building  across  the  way 
was  fast  approaching  completion  ;  the  time  had 
come  for  selecting  the  man  who  was  to  lead  the 
new  enterprise.  To  the  amazement  of  everybody 

1  It  deserves  to  be  mentioned,  if  only  in  a  footnote,  that  when  he  was 
out  on  these  midnight  expeditions  a  kindly  landlady  used  to  sit  up  for 
him  and  prepare  a  meal  for  his  return. 


44 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


the  post  was  offered  to  Collier.  The  choice  needs 
no  justification  to-day,  but  it  needed  some  courage 
even  to  suggest  it  in  1886.  It  must  be  remembered 
that  Collier  was  still  a  young  and  unknown  man  ; 
that  Methodism  was  only  just  embarking,  and  that 
somewhat  timorously,  on  a  new  evangelistic  policy  ; 
that  it  had  laid  out  nearly  £40,000  on  this  first 
experiment ;  and  that  failure  here  would  have 
meant  discouragement,  and  perhaps  even  disaster, 
along  the  whole  line.  It  was  no  wonder,  therefore, 
that  many  of  the  leaders  of  the  4  Forward  Move¬ 
ment,’  as  it  was  called,  were  both  alarmed  and 
indignant  at  what  seemed  to  them  Manchester’s 
rash  and  ill-considered  choice.  The  man  who  was 
mainly  responsible  for  Collier’s  appointment,  it  is 
now  well  known,  was  Dr.  Henry  J.  Pope.  Dr.  Pope 
was  one  of  the  most  prescient  Christian  leaders  of 
his  day,  with  an  almost  uncanny  shrewdness  in 
judging  men.  Collier,  whose  admiration  for  him 
knew  no  bounds,  used  to  speak  of  him  as  perhaps 
God’s  greatest  gift  to  the  Methodism  of  his  genera¬ 
tion.1  While  the  younger  man  was  busy  about 
his  work,  little  suspecting  what  was  in  store  for 
him,  the  older  man  was  watching  and  weighing, 
and  before  the  year  was  out  had  made  up  his  mind. 
Then  very  soon — as  so  often  happened  where 
Dr.  Pope  was  concerned — many  others  began  to 
discover  that  they  also  had  made  up  their  minds, 

1  At  the  Conference  after  Dr.  Pope’s  death,  Collier  tried  to  speak  at 
the  usual  Memorial  Service.  He  got  through  a  few  sentences,  then  his 
emotion  overcame  him  so  completely  that  he  was  compelled  to  sit  down. 


THE  MANCHESTER  MISSION 


45 


that  on  the  whole  they  agreed  with  Dr.  Pope,  that, 
in  short,  Collier  was  the  man  for  the  Mission.  It 
is  a  curious  illustration  of  how  little  Collier  himself 
was  anticipating  the  responsibility  that  was  thus 
thrust  upon  him  that  he  had  intended,  when  his 
year  at  Lever  Street  was  up,  to  accept  an  invita¬ 
tion  which  he  had  reason  to  know  was  being  sent 
to  him  by  the  Methodists  of  Chorlton-cum-Hardy, 
but  which  in  some  way  or  other  Dr.  Pope  managed 
to  intercept. 

Through  the  first  five  years  of  his  ministry  Collier 
had  proved  himself  faithful  in  a  few  things  ;  he 
was  now  to  be  made  ruler  over  many  things. 
The  best  reward  of  work  well  done  is  the  oppor¬ 
tunity  for  more  work,  and  of  that  reward,  hence¬ 
forth  and  to  the  end,  he  was  to  taste  to  the  full. 
But  though  his  sphere  of  service  was  thus  so 
suddenly  and  so  vastly  widened,  he  did  not  forget 
that  he  still  served  the  same  Lord.  When,  on 
the  Sunday  evening  of  October  24,  1886,  Collier 
preached  his  last  sermon  at  Lever  Street,  he  chose 
for  his  text  1  Sam.  vii.  12  :  Then  Samuel  took  a 
stone ,  and  set  it  between  Mizpah  and  Shen,  and 
called  the  name  of  it  Ebenezer ,  saying.  Hitherto 
hath  the  Lord  helped  us.  Hitherto — in  Kent,  at 
Twickenham,  at  Hounslow,  at  Lever  Street — he 
knew  he  had  been  helped,  helped  from  on  high  ; 
and  as  he  stood  on  the  edge  of  the  unknown  land 
which  lay  before  him,  which  he  had  never  sought 
but  which  he  must  now  enter,  this  was  his  con¬ 
fidence,  that  that  help  would  not  fail  him.  And 


46 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


it  did  not.  The  following  Wednesday  (October  27), 
the  new  building  in  Oldham  Street — henceforth 
to  be  known  as  the  Central  Hall — was  formally 
opened  for  public  worship  by  the  President  of 
the  Conference  (Dr.  Robert  Newton  Young). 
Further  special  services,  conducted  by  distin¬ 
guished  ministers  of  the  Church,  followed,  and 
it  was  not  until  the  second  Sunday  of  November 
that  Collier  began  what  was  destined  to  be  the 
longest  continuous  ministry  in  the  history  of 
Methodism.  On  the  opening  Sundays  the  fame 
of  the  preachers  and  the  interest  of  the  occasion 
naturally  drew  enormous  throngs  to  the  Hall ; 
but  there  were  many  gloomy  prophecies  of  what 
would  happen  when  the  special  preachers  had 
gone  their  way.  It  was  even  suggested  that, 
since  it  was  obviously  impossible  that  the  young 
missioner  could  attend  to  the  details  of  organisa¬ 
tion  and  minister  regularly  to  the  same  congregation, 
he  should  be  assisted,  especially  at  the  evening 
service,  by  men  of  mark  and  power  ;  and  tentative 
arrangements  were  actually  made  with  that  end 
in  view.  But  Collier’s  first  services  put  all  the 
prophets  to  confusion  ;  the  ‘  star  ’  preachers  were 
never  called  in. 

It  is  interesting  and  significant  to  know  that 
for  his  first  Sunday  evening  sermon  in  the  new 
hall,  Collier  fell  back  upon  his  favourite  theme, 
Able  to  save  to  the  uttermost.1  It  was  not  merely, 
as  all  preachers  at  least  will  readily  understand, 

1  See  p.  17. 


THE  MANCHESTER  MISSION 


47 


that  he  wanted  for  such  an  occasion  a  subject 
with  which  he  was  thoroughly  familiar ;  the  text, 
as  he  interpreted  it,  enshrined  the  deepest  con¬ 
viction  of  his  soul,  the  one  thing  which  he  had 
come  to  Manchester  to  say,  and  which  the  Central 
Hall  Mission  was  established  to  make  good.  Chris¬ 
tianity,  some  one  has  said,  is  4  the  religion  of  all 
poor  devils  5 ;  but  the  word  spoken  in  scorn  Collier 
would  have  hailed  with  rejoicing.  It  was  exactly 
that,  he  believed,  which  was  given  him  to  pro¬ 
claim  :  a  gospel  for  4  all  poor  devils,’  another 
chance  for  those  who  thought  they  had  gambled 
away  their  last,  love  without  stint  for  those  whom 
no  man  regarded,  salvation  to  the  uttermost. 

II.  HOW  THE  MISSION  GREW 

It  is  necessary  again  to  remind  the  reader  that 
these  pages  are  the  record  of  a  man,  not  the  history 
of  a  movement,  and  that  much  that  would  fittingly 
find  a  place  in  the  one  must  be  omitted  from  the 
other.  Here  there  is  room  only  for  the  barest 
outline  of  the  rapid  expansion  of  the  Mission’s 
activities  which  marked  the  next  few  years.  Collier 
knew  that  in  work  of  this  kind  the  thing  to  be 
feared,  and  in  all  possible  ways  to  be  fought  against, 
is  the  sense  of  staleness  which  is  so  apt  to  creep 
over  the  workers  when  the  romance  of  a  new  enter¬ 
prise  has  begun  to  fade.  He  made  it  a  rule,  there¬ 
fore — and  until  the  Great  War  laid  its  arrest  on 
the  whole  life  of  the  nation,  the  rule  was  pretty 
regularly  observed — to  make  some  new  advance, 


48 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


some  fresh  development,  every  year.  Twelve 
months  after  the  opening  of  the  Central  Hall,  the 
crowds  at  the  evening  service  were  so  great  that 
the  St.  James’s  Theatre,  Oxford  Street,  was  secured 
for  a  second  service.1  Two  years  later  (in  1889) 
the  great  Free  Trade  Hall  became  available  for 
the  work  of  the  Mission,  and  there  every  Sunday 
night,  for  the  next  twenty-one  years,  Collier 
ministered  to  what  was  often,  and  rightly,  des¬ 
cribed  as  4  the  largest  Methodist  congregation  in 
the  world.’  At  the  end  of  that  time  (in  1910)  a 
new  and  permanent  home  was  provided  by  the 
erection  of  the  Albert  Hall  in  Peter  Street.  In 
the  meantime,  a  number  of  old  and  well-nigh 
deserted  sanctuaries  in  the  centre  of  the  city  were 
detached  from  the  circuits  to  which  they  belonged 
and  brought  within  the  Mission  organisation,  in 
the  hope  that  they  might  share  its  more  vigorous 
life.  In  only  one  instance  was  the  hope  dis¬ 
appointed.  In  some  cases  the  old  property  was 
rebuilt  or  remodelled ;  new  workers  with  new 
methods  were  installed ;  the  house  of  God  became 
again  the  people’s  home.  Indeed,  so  swift  and 
strong  was  the  returning  tide,  that  in  1904 — I 
quote  from  one  of  the  annual  reports  picked  up 
at  random — Collier  was  able  to  announce  that  the 
attendances  at  the  various  Sunday  services  of  the 

1  Not,  however,  at  exactly  the  same  hour.  It  is  an  illustration  of 
Collier’s  almost  unfailing  foresight  in  matters  of  detail  that  when  in 
this  way  he  arranged  for  double  services,  he  always  began  one  a  little 
later  than  the  other,  in  order  that  those  who  failed  to  gain  admission  at 
the  first  might  be  in  time  for  the  second. 


THE  MANCHESTER  MISSION 


49 


Mission  numbered  not  less  than  16,000,  independent 
of  the  still  larger  number  that  were  reached  every 
week  by  house-to-house  visitation,  open-air  and 
lodging-house  services,  and  other  means.1 

And  then,  alongside  this  intense  religious  activity, 
there  sprang  up,  as  the  years  went  by,  a  vast  net¬ 
work  of  agencies — the  Men’s  Home  and  Labour 
Yard,  the  Women’s  Home,  the  Maternity  Home 
and  Hospital,  the  Cripples’  Guilds,  etc. — for  the 
relief  of  the  destitute  and  the  repair  of  the  broken. 
Of  this  part  of  Collier’s  work  something  will  be 
said  in  a  later  chapter.  At  this  point  two  things 
only  need  to  be  said  about  it.  In  the  first  place, 
as  the  later  chapter  will  show,  he  began  the  social 
work  of  the  Mission  simply  because  he  could  not 
help  himself ;  circumstances  forced  his  hand.  But 
reluctant  as  he  must  often  have  been — he  was  too 
clear-sighted  not  to  know  the  perils  which  beset 
the  path  of  the  philanthropist — his  judgment  never 
wavered.  Things  being  what  they  were,  he  could 
no  other  if  he  were  to  carry  through  the  work 
which  was  laid  on  him  to  do.  And,  in  the  second 
place,  it  must  be  remembered  that,  to  Collier’s 
mind,  the  religious  work  and  the  social  work  were 
not  two  things,  but  only  different  aspects  of  the 
same  thing.  In  other  words,  Collier  was  an  evan¬ 
gelist,  first,  last,  always,  and  in  everything.  All 
his  labour  was  directed  to  one  end — that  he  might 
bring  men  to  God.  If  that  is  forgotten,  the  central 
fact  is  forgotten  which  explains  all  else.  To  speak 

1  See  note  on  p.  G7. 


D 


50 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


of  him  as  an  evangelist  and  half  a  dozen  other 
things  as  well,  as  if  evangelism  were  but  one  among 
many  interests  in  a  busy  life,  is  entirely  to  mis¬ 
construe  his  work,  at  least  as  it  presented  itself 
to  his  own  mind.  To  him  it  was  all  of  a  piece. 
Some  of  it  might  be  done  in  a  Sunday  evening 
service,  and  some  of  it  in  the  Men’s  Labour  Yard  ; 
that  made  no  difference  ;  the  work  was  one,  and 
it  was  all,  I  repeat,  the  work  of  an  evangelist. 

The  foregoing  summary,  altogether  inadequate 
as  it  is,  will  give  some  idea  of  the  scale  of  Collier’s 
labours  and  of  the  success  which  they  achieved. 
What  were  the  principles  which  guided  him  ? 
Many  of  his  methods  have  since  been  so  freely 
adopted,  both  within  and  without  Methodism, 
that  much  which,  thirty-five  years  ago,  seemed 
novel  and  startling  is  now  familiar  and  accepted 
commonplace.  None  the  less,  it  may  be  well  to 
set  down  a  few  things  which,  if  they  do  not  explain 
the  Mission’s  success,  were  at  least  things  which 
Collier  himself  was  wont  to  emphasise. 

The  building  which  took  the  place  of  the  old 
Oldham  Street  Chapel,  as  we  have  already  seen, 
was  named,  not  a  4  Chapel  ’  nor  a  4  Church,’  but 
a  4  Hall  ’ ;  and  not  4  Wesley  Hall,’  as  some  would 
have  liked  to  name  it,  but  the  4  Central  Hall.’ 
All  which  being  interpreted  meant  that  the  Mission, 
though  it  was  to  be  denominational,  was  not  to 
be  aggressively  so.  Its  aim  was  not  to  persuade 
saints  to  change  their  4  ism,’  but  sinners  to  change 
their  lives.  It  sought  its  constituency  among 


THE  MANCHESTER  MISSION 


51 


those  to  whom  all  the  Churches  were  as  nothing, 
and  the  distinctions  between  the  Churches  as  less 
than  nothing.  If  those  whom,  through  its  agency, 
Divine  grace  rescued  and  redeemed  elected  to 
throw  in  their  lot  with  the  Methodist  people,  well 
and  good  ;  but  the  Mission  had  no  sectarian  axe 
to  grind.  Especially  was  this  true  of  its  social 
work.  4  Need,  not  creed,’  was  its  motto  ;  nor  was 
the  fine  saying,  what  mottoes  sometimes  are, 
merely  a  bit  of  coloured  bunting  at  the  masthead  ; 
it  was  the  rudder  that  steered  the  ship.  As  a 
writer  in  the  Manchester  Guardian  happily  put  it, 
the  social  work  of  the  Mission  had  made  4  the 
world  of  want  its  parish.’ 

At  one  point  the  new  Mission  broke  decisively 
with  the  traditions  of  the  past.  Several  years 
before  an  attempt  had  been  made,  through  an 
organisation  known  as  the  4  Manchester  and  Salford 
Lay  Mission,’  to  minister  to  the  spiritual  needs 
of  some  of  the  poorest  districts  of  the  city.  Nine 
small  mission  rooms  had  been  opened  and  a  number 
of  lay  agents  appointed  to  work  them.  The 
results  had  not  been  encouraging.  How  indeed 
could  it  be  otherwise  ?  When  it  is  tacitly  assumed 
that  for  the  Christian  worshipper  there  must  be 
the  best  that  architecture  and  music  and  a  trained 
ministry  can  supply,  but  that  for  a  4  mission  ’  all 
that  is  needed  is  good  intentions  and  a  warm  heart, 
however  shabby  and  incompetent  the  accessories 
may  be,  is  it  any  marvel  if  the  results  are  meagre  ? 
The  Manchester  Mission  changed  all  that ;  and 


52  COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 

when  it  is  stated  that  the  total  value  of  the  Mission 
property  to-day  is  not  less  than  £250,000,  and  that 
£25,000  a  year  is  expended  in  carrying  on  its 
manifold  activities,  we  have  a  fair  measure  of  the 
greatness  of  the  change.  It  was  not  the  least  of 
Collier’s  services  to  the  kingdom  of  God  that  he 
helped  to  put  an  end  to  the  era  of  the  4  cheap  ’ 
mission. 

Not  less  important  was  his  linking  together 
unsectarian  aggression  and  a  due  provision  for 
Church  life.  Here  again  there  was  a  marked 
divergence  between  the  old  methods  and  the  new. 
Before  the  mission  was  usually  of  the  nature  of  a 
4  feeder  ’  to  the  local  church — a  sort  of  tender  to 
the  big  ship.  Those  whom  it  picked  up  it  passed 
on  to  be  cared  for  and  trained  by  others.  At  least 
that  was  the  theory,  though  it  is  to  be  feared  it 
often  failed  to  be  the  fact.  It  is  surely  better  on 
every  ground  that  young  converts  should  remain, 
wherever  possible,  in  fellowship  with  those  by  whom 
they  have  been  led  to  Christ.  But  that  involves 
the  thing  upon  which  Collier  laid  such  emphasis, 
4  the  due  provision  for  Church  life,’  and  the  old 
methods  did  not  make  it.  At  the  Central  Hall, 
however,  and  at  all  the  other  centres  of  the  Mission, 
a  roll  of  Church  membership  was  kept,  classes 
were  formed  for  Christian  fellowship,  children  were 
taught  in  the  Sunday  Schools,  men  and  women 
were  taught  in  Bible  Classes,  and  the  Sacraments 
were  administered,  just  as  in  any  duly  organised 
Methodist  Church.  Let  one  set  of  figures  speak  for 


THE  MANCHESTER  MISSION 


53 


themselves.  When  the  work  of  the  Mission  began  it 
was  not  expected,  even  by  warm  supporters  like 
Dr.  H.  J.  Pope  himself,  that  any  considerable 
number  of  persons  would  be  gathered  into  Church 
membership  in  Oldham  Street.  The  experience 
of  later  years  in  the  old  chapel  seemed  to  forbid 
that.  Yet  what  are  the  facts  ?  Here  are  the 
figures  for  the  first  nine  years  : — 


March. 

Members. 

Increase. 

On  Trial 
for  Membership. 

1887 

93 

31 

62 

1888 

183 

90 

91 

1889 

800 

117 

61 

1890  1 

518 

218 

97 

1891 

777 

259 

163 

1892 

953 

176 

195 

1893 

1056 

103 

240 

1894  1 

1317 

261 

333 

1895 

1484 

167 

345 

Not  only  so,  but  in  his  Report  for  1896  the  Super¬ 
intendent  of  the  Mission  declared  that  if  ‘  the 
Conference  sent  an  entirely  new  staff  to  take  over 
the  Manchester  Mission  next  September,  they 
would  have  no  difficulty  in  finding  every  member 
returned,  and  would  be  comforted  by  the  discovery 
of  reserves  quite  sufficient  to  prevent  the  dis¬ 
couragement  of  decreases  until  they  had  got  the 
reins  well  into  their  own  hands.’  How  much  facts 
like  these  meant,  not  only  for  the  strength  and 
stability  of  the  Mission,  but  for  its  effectiveness  as 

1  In  1890,  156  members  were  received  from  two  old  chapels  which 
were  taken  over  by  the  Mission  in  that  year.  There  was  a  further 
addition  of  the  same  kind  of  102  in  1894. 


54 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


a  striking  force  in  evangelistic  operations,  needs 
not  to  be  pointed  out. 

Of  Collier’s  tireless  ingenuity  in  devising  new 
ways  of  doing  good,  of  the  ceaseless  vigilance  with 
which  the  new  converts  were  shepherded  and  cared 
for,  and,  above  all,  themselves  were  set  to  work, 
something  is  said  elsewhere  in  this  book.  Before 
concluding  this  section,  two  further  illustrations 
may  be  given  of  the  large-minded  way  in  which 
he  interpreted  his  commission  to  do  the  work  of 
an  evangelist.  Forty  or  fifty  years  ago  that  great 
word  suggested  to  many  little  more  than  noisy 
ardour  and  narrow  sympathies  ;  but  Collier  filled 
it  with  new  and  nobler  meanings.  He  knew  that 
if  men  were  to  be  won  for  God — and  that,  as  I 
have  said,  was  his  aim  in  everything — they  must 
be  met  upon  their  own  ground.  When,  therefore, 
some  years  ago,  the  Clarion  newspaper  tried  to 
rally  the  working  men  of  England  to  the  banner  of 
unbelief,  Collier,  with  the  co-operation  of  Dr.  James 
Hope  Moulton,  who  was  always  one  of  the  Mission’s 
best  friends,  arranged  two  long  series  of  Sunday 
afternoon  lectures  by  well-known  Christian  apolo¬ 
gists,1  in  order,  not  so  much  to  controvert  Robert 
Blatchford,  as  to  demonstrate  that  it  is  still  a 
reasonable  thing  to  be  a  Christian  believer.  It 
was  not  the  kind  of  work  that  Collier  could  have 
done  himself,  but  no  man  understood  better  than 
he  the  importance  of  having  it  done,  and  he  was 

1  Afterwards  published  under  the  titles  Is  Christianity  True'i ?  and  What 
is  Christianity? 


THE  MANCHESTER  MISSION 


ready  at  all  times  to  enlist  the  services  of  Christian 
scholars,  in  order  that  thereby  he  might  widen  the 
Mission’s  appeal  to  the  men  of  his  generation. 

The  other  illustration  is  to  be  seen  in  the  now 
famous  Tuesday  Mid-day  Service  which  was  begun 
in  November  1886,  and  has  been  continued  regu¬ 
larly  ever  since.  Representatives  of  all  the  Free 
Churches  and,  during  recent  years,  a  steadily  increas¬ 
ing  number  of  Anglican  clergymen  have  united  to 
make  this  service  as  unique  in  the  religious  life  of 
the  city  as  perhaps  it  is  in  the  religious  life  of  the 
land.  No  part  of  Collier’s  work  lay  nearer  to  his 
heart  than  this,  and  on  none  did  he  spend  more 
pains.  He  was  always  listening  for  any  new  voice 
that  could  speak  with  authority  concerning  the 
things  of  the  Kingdom.  If  any  man  had  a  word 
from  God  to  speak,  and  could  speak  it  with  power 
— provided  always  he  was  loyal  to  the  Divine 
Lord — sooner  or  later  he  got  his  chance  to  speak 
it  from  Collier’s  platform.  Dr.  H.  J.  Pope  used 
laughingly  to  say  that  if  the  archangel  Gabriel 
were  to  visit  this  earth  the  first  thing  he  would 
expect  to  hear  would  be  that  Collier  had  fixed  him 
up  to  speak  at  the  Central  Hall  !  Few,  probably, 
of  those  who  joined  with  profit  and  delight  in  those 
mid-day  services  had  any  idea  of  the  thought  and 
care  which  had  gone  to  the  preparation  of  the 
programme.  And  this,  too,  was  all  of  a  piece 
with  the  one  great  purpose  of  the  Mission.  In 
the  Men’s  Home  Collier  was  striving  to  interpret 
Christ  to  poor,  homeless  vagabonds  who  were 


56 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


4  down  and  out  ’ ;  in  the  mid-day  service  he  was 
striving  to  interpret  Him  to  the  world  of  modern 
commerce.1 

III.  HOW  THE  MISSION  WAS  FINANCED 

Reference  has  already  been  made  to  the  heavy 
cost  of  maintaining  the  Mission.  With  so  many 
centres  of  work,  both  social  and  religious,  and  with 
a  staff  of  paid  agents — ministers,  lay  agents,  sisters, 
nurses,  matrons,  secretaries,  and  others — number¬ 
ing  in  all  from  thirty  to  forty,  this  was  inevitable, 
even  with  the  most  rigid  economy.  Not  less  in¬ 
evitable  was  it  that  the  main  responsibility  for 
financing  the  big  business  fell  upon  the  shoulders 
of  the  superintendent.  It  is  easy  to  say  that  this 
ought  not  to  have  been,  that  the  man  who  bore 
the  burden  of  directing  such  an  organisation  should 
have  been  freed  from  the  burden  of  finance.  But 
in  practice,  as  any  one  who  has  had  experience 
in  work  of  this  kind  is  well  aware,  this  is  impossible. 
It  is  the  man  whom  the  public  identifies  with  a 
cause  who  can  best  appeal  in  its  behalf.  For- 

1  Collier  himself  was  almost  invariably  present  at  these  services,  and 
some  of  his  comments  on  contemporary  preachers  and  preaching  were 
often  well  worth  hearing.  Only  a  fortnight  before  his  death  he  said  to 
a  friend  that  he  had  noted  this  :  that  any  man  could  lash  the  sins  and 
follies  of  the  world,  but  that  to  preach  the  Cross  a  man  must  live  very 
near  it.  There  is,  perhaps,  no  harm  in  saying  that,  of  all  the  men  to 
whom  he  listened  at  the  Central  Hall,  none  impressed  him  so  profoundly 
as  Dr.  G.  A.  Johnston  Ross,  now  of  Union  Seminary,  New  York.  He 
would  gladly  have  incurred  almost  any  expense  in  order  to  have  secured 
his  more  frequent  presence  at  the  mid-day  service.  But  Dr.  Ross  has 
been  guilty  all  his  life  of  hiding  a  very  brilliant  light  under  the  bushel 
of  an  unconquerable  modesty. 


THE  MANCHESTER  MISSION 


57 


tunately,  the  members  and  congregations  of  the 
Mission  were  trained  to  give  as  well  as  to  serve, 
so  that  out  of  the  £25,000  which  came  to  be  needed 
annually  for  the  work,  £22,000  was  raised  within 
its  own  borders.  Nevertheless,  the  remaining 
£3000,  added  to  the  special  efforts  involved  in  every 
fresh  advance,  laid  a  very  heavy  tax  on  Collier’s 
time  and  strength.  For  example,  the  splendid 
Men’s  Home  in  Hood  Street,  Ancoats — probably 
one  of  the  best  of  its  kind  in  the  country — meant 
an  outlay  of  £25,000,  and  in  connection  with  it 
Collier  achieved  one  of  his  most  spectacular  triumphs 
as  a  money-raiser.  In  the  spring  of  1903  a  great 
bazaar  was  held  which  raised  in  six  short  days  the 
astonishing  sum  of  £15,642.  When  the  prepara¬ 
tions  for  the  bazaar  began,  Collier  asked  for 
£6500.  Later  on  he  raised  the  figure  to  £8500. 
He  used  afterwards  to  say  that  the  good  Man¬ 
chester  people  got  a  little  confused  as  to  what 
exactly  it  was  that  he  wanted,  and  so  they  gave 
him  both.1 

Collier  had  very  definite  convictions  about  the 
duty  of  the  rich  men  of  Manchester  to  the  needy 
poor  of  their  own  city,  nor  did  he  ever  think  it 
necessary  to  apologise  for  putting  their  duty  before 

1  The  bazaar,  it  may  be  noticed  in  passing,  was  also  the  occasion  of  a 
tribute  to  the  work  of  the  Mission  from  the  Manchester  Guardian  which 
was  as  generous  as  it  was  desei’ved :  ‘That  success  has  come  in  a  full 
tide,  and  in  a  tide  which  is  still  flowing’ — the  article  appeared  on  the 
fourth  day  of  the  bazaar — ‘is  a  matter  for  congratulation  beyond  the 
bounds  of  the  Wesleyan  Methodist  body,  with  which  the  Mission  is  more 
particularly  identified.  As  has  been  pointed  out  more  than  once  in  these 
columns,  the  social  work,  which  has  its  headquarters  at  the  Central 


58 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


them.  The  following  characteristic  little  incident 
is  related  by  a  well-known  Manchester  layman,  a 
member  of  Union  Chapel — the  chapel  so  long 
associated  with  the  ministry  of  Alexander  McLaren. 
A  meeting  was  being  held  there  in  1919,  in  celebra¬ 
tion  of  its  fiftieth  anniversary.  The  layman  who 
tells  the  story  was  giving  some  account  of  the 
history  of  the  chapel,  and,  incidentally,  of  some 
of  the  wealthy  and  influential  merchants  whose 
carriages  used  to  be  drawn  up  in  a  long  line,  Sunday 
after  Sunday,  at  the  chapel  gates.  Among  the 
rest  he  mentioned  one,  a  former  M.P.  for  Salford, 
of  whom  he  said  that  at  his  death  he  left  £2,000,000. 

4  Shame  !  5  cried  Collier,  who  chanced  to  be  sitting 
not  far  from  the  pulpit.  Then  followed  a  brief 
colloquy  between  the  man  on  the  platform  and  the 
man  in  the  pew,  which  ended  quite  happily  by  the 
speaker  saying  that  if  Collier  had  had  anything 
to  do  with  Union  Chapel  at  the  time,  it  was 

perfectly  certain  that  Mr.  -  would  not  have 

been  allowed  to  leave  his  two  millions.  Mr.  W.  J. 
Crossley  once  told  a  Manchester  audience  that  he 
used  occasionally  to  ask  Collier  to  drink  a  cup  of  tea 
with  him,  but  that  he  had  given  it  up,  as  he  found 

Hall,  has  made  the  world  of  want  its  parish.  Its  Homes  and  Shelters 
for  men  and  women,  its  prison-gate  mission,  its  administration  of 
medical  relief  and  sick-nursing,  its  maternity  charity,  its  cripples’  guild, 
its  home  of  rest — all  these  take  account  simply  of  human  beings  in  need, 
who  are  the  charge,  one  way  or  another,  of  society  at  large.  The  noble 
men  and  women  who,  day  in  and  day  out,  are  doing  the  work,  zealously 
but  quietly,  and  with  sober  sympathy,  are  entitled,  when  they  pause  for 
a  moment  to  ask  that  their  hands  may  be  strengthened  to  receive  a 
response  that  shall  not  be  too  carefully  calculated.' 


THE  MANCHESTER  MISSION 


59 


that  each  cup  cost  him  about  £500  !  1  Sometimes 
a  Sister  of  the  Mission  would  take  to  the  4  Super  ’ 
some  peculiarly  urgent  and  distressing  case.  4  Jot 
down  the  details  for  me,’  he  would  say,  4 1  am 
lunching  with  So-and-So  at  the  Reform  Club  to-day.’ 
A  few  hours  later  he  would  return  with  all  that 
was  needed.  When  he  invited  a  layman  to  take 
the  chair  at  the  great  anniversary  meeting  in  the 
Free  Trade  Hall  he  generally  managed  to  make 
it  quite  clear  that  he  was  expected  to  contribute 
not  less  than,  say,  £200  to  the  anniversary  fund. 
But  in  many  cases  there  was  no  need  to  talk  about 
money  :  he  had  only  to  tell  his  story  and  the 
cheque-books  came  out.  One  summer,  when  the 
Wesleyan  Methodist  Conference  was  meeting  in 
Manchester,  he  took  three  wealthy  laymen  round 
the  chief  centres  of  the  Mission.  Not  a  word  was 
said  about  money,  but  afterwards — I  tell  the  story 
on  the  authority  of  one  of  them — the  three  men 
put  their  heads  together  :  4  We  ought  to  encourage 
work  like  this,’  they  said.  Each  man  agreed  to 
write  down  on  a  slip  of  paper  what  he  would  give  ; 
each  man  wrote  4  £500.’  2 

1  The  same  generous  donor  supplied  the  gas  engine  which  was  one  of 
the  costliest  items  in  the  outfit  of  the  new  Labour  Yard  in  Hood  Street. 
When  the  bill  was  asked  for  he  sent  it  in  with  a  footnote,  ‘subject  to 
100  per  cent,  discount.’ 

2  Since  the  above  paragraph  was  written  I  have  received  from  the 
game  Baptist  layman  another  illustration  of  the  unexpected  ways  in 
which  money  sometimes  found  its  way  into  the  coffers  of  the  Mission. 
He  received  one  day,  he  says,  an  anonymous  letter  from  a  Manchester 
citizen  who  had  money  to  give  away  for  charitable  purposes,  asking  for 
his  advice  in  the  disposal  of  it,  and  stipulating  only  that  the  gift  should 
be  made  in  absolute  secrecy.  This  led  him  to  a  careful,  personal 


60 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


And  apart  from  the  character  and  quality  of 
the  work  that  was  being  done,  men  did  not  forget 
how  tiny  a  fraction  of  the  large  sums  which  every 
year  passed  through  Collier’s  hands  found  their  way 
into  his  own  pocket.  Everybody  knew  who  knew 
him  that  had  he  gone  into  business,  with  gifts  like 
his,  and  with  far  less  labour  than  he  put  into  the 
Mission,  he  might  have  been  one  of  Manchester’s 
merchant  princes.  The  late  Sir  Edward  Tootal 
Broadhurst  once  said  to  a  group  of  Methodist 
laymen  :  4  When  you  Methodists  have  done  with 
Collier,  let  me  have  him  ;  I  can  find  him  work 
at  a  princely  salary.’  And  then  I  turn  to  the 
balance  sheet  of  the  first  of  the  Mission’s  annual 
reports,  and  I  find  this  entry  under  4  Payments  ’ : — 

4  By  Minister’s  Stipend  (1 J  years)  .  £187  10  0  ’ 

Of  course,  this  was  in  the  early  days  of  the  Mission, 
when  Collier  was  still  a  young,  unmarried  man  ; 
but  to  the  end  he  did  his  work  on  a  stipend  which, 
judged  by  the  ordinary  standards  of  commerce, 
was  ludicrously  small.  There  is  no  need  to  dwell 
on  the  point,  but  men  to  whom  he  made  his  appeal, 
and  with  whom,  had  he  cared,  he  might  have  had 
his  place,  remembered  and  responded. 

examination  of  the  work  carried  on  under  Collier’s  supervision,  with  the 
result  that  he  advised  his  anonymous  correspondent  to  give  his  money 
to  the  Manchester  Mission.  Thereafter,  every  year,  for  six  years,  a 
registered  letter,  containing  £50  in  bank  notes,  was  received,  but  with¬ 
out  any  trace  of  its  source.  With  the  sixth  instalment  came  a  brief 
note  saying  that,  owing  to  a  change  in  the  donor’s  financial  position, 
and  much  to  his  regret,  he  was  unable  to  continue  the  gift  further. 
Collier  was  very  greatly  touched  by  the  confidence  alike  of  his  Baptist 
friend  and  of  the  Mission’s  unknown  and  generous  benefactor. 


THE  MANCHESTER  MISSION 


61 


IV.  THE  MISSION  AS  OTHERS  SAW  IT 

It  was  only  natural  that  methods  of  work  so 
daring  in  their  conception  and  so  successful  in 
their  results  should  gradually  compel  the  atten¬ 
tion  of  social  and  religious  workers  in  other  churches 
and  in  other  lands,  and  it  would  be  easy  to  fill  many 
pages  of  this  volume  with  the  tributes  of  those  who, 
like  Barnabas  at  Antioch,  came  and  saw  and  were 
made  glad.  The  judgment  of  Manchester’s  great 
daily  paper  has  already  been  quoted.  4  I  am  here,’ 
said  the  Lord  Mayor  of  Manchester  (Mr.  John 
Royle),  on  the  opening  day  of  the  bazaar  referred 
to  in  the  last  section,  ‘  fearlessly  to  assert  that  I 
know  of  no  institution  in  our  city,  or  elsewhere, 
which  is  so  admirably  equipped  for  dealing  with 
all  classes  of  the  needy,  and  helpless,  and  fallen. 
Nor  am  I  acquainted  with  any  benevolent  institu¬ 
tion  which  is  better  administered  and  more  econ¬ 
omically  managed.’  Dr.  Moorhouse,  the  first  of 
the  three  Bishops  of  Manchester  who  were  Collier’s 
contemporaries,  was  equally  emphatic  :  ‘  I  have 
never  seen,’  he  said,  4  an  institution  more  adapted 
to  help  the  destitute  and  to  give  self-respect  to 
the  fallen.’  His  successor,  Bishop  Knox,  in  sending 
to  Collier  a  copy  of  his  4  Charge  to  my  Clergy  ’ — 
4  though  you,  alas  !  are  not  one  of  them  ’ — wrote  : 
4 1  believe  you  will  be  so  good  as  to  accept  it  as 
a  small  token  of  brotherly  kindness,  and  of  my 
certainty  that  you  in  no  way  yield  to  any  of  us 
in  your  desire  to  make  known  the  44  glad  tidings 


62  COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 

of  reconciliation,”  but  have  been  blessed  abund¬ 
antly  in  proclaiming  them.’  Bishop  Temple,  the 
last  of  the  trio,  only  came  to  the  diocese  a  few 
months  before  Collier’s  death,  but  he  has  been  no 
whit  behind  his  predecessors  in  the  warmth  and 
cordiality  of  his  appreciation  ;  while  Bishop  Well- 
don,  so  many  years  the  Dean  of  Manchester,  wrote 
from  the  Deanery  of  Durham  :  4 1  shall  always 
think  of  him  as  probably  the  best  exponent  of 
practical  Christianity  in  the  great  city  to  which 
he  dedicated  his  life.’  4 1  am  struck,’  said  Sir 
George  Adam  Smith,  4  by  the  energy,  inventive¬ 
ness,  the  originality,  and  the  sanity  of  your  methods. 
May  God  raise  up  followers  of  your  plans  in  every 
town  in  our  country  !  ’  To  Sir  William  Robertson 
Nicoll  the  Mission,  seemed  4  the  greatest  piece  of 
work  that  any  church  has  accomplished  in  this 
generation.’  Still  more  significant,  perhaps,  was 
the  following  letter  from  the  Rev.  Dr.  S.  Parkes 
Cadman,  of  Brooklyn,  U.S.A.  : — 

4  Dear  Mr.  Collier, — Will  you  allow  me,  as 
an  outsider,  and  yet  perhaps  as  one  not  alto¬ 
gether  unacquainted  with  the  work  of  your 
magnificent  Mission,  to  express  to  you  in  this 
informal  way  the  appreciation  of  many  thou¬ 
sands  of  American  clergymen,  and  of  leading 
Christian  workers  in  the  United  States,  for  what 
you  have  been  able,  under  God,  to  accomplish 
in  Manchester?  Your  work  is  quoted  in  the 
Protestant  Churches  of  North  America  as  a 
model  work,  and  as  the  most  complete  exposition 
of  the  evangelisation  of  a  city  in  actual  practice 
that  we  have  to-day.  .  .  .  Sometimes  Ameri- 


THE  MANCHESTER  MISSION 


63 


cans,  generous  as  they  are,  have  been  surprised 
by  the  amount  of  money  that  you  have  been 
able  to  raise  for  this  work,  and  the  way  in  which 
you  have  led  its  developments  from  more  to 
more  has  filled  them  with  Christian  joy.  But 
when  one  makes  a  survey  of  it,  and  notes  its 
strict  business  methods,  its  familiarity  with  the 
conditions  of  those  it  is  meant  to  help,  its  com¬ 
bination  of  various  qualities  that  are  often 
absent  from  enterprises  of  this  character,  the 
only  wonder  is  that  you  do  not  raise  more  than 
you  do.  We  trust  that  you  will  maintain  the 
happy  balance  characteristic  of  all  that  is  done, 
and  done  so  sanely  and  so  well.  To  be  institu¬ 
tional,  social,  in  the  best  sense  political,  and 
always  spiritual,  without  yielding  in  any  appreci¬ 
able  degree  to  the  weaknesses  that  beset  these 
types,  is  to  my  thinking  a  triumph  of  Christian 
statesmanship ;  and  when  we  remember  the 
multitudes  to  whom  you  and  your  staff  preach 
the  Gospel  in  various  ways,  and  with  uniform 
faithfulness  and  success,  our  hearts  are  rejoiced, 
and  we  give  thanks  to  God,  the  Giver  of  every 
good  and  perfect  gift,  because  of  you  all. 

4  In  behalf  of  my  brethren,  the  clergymen  of 
many  American  Churches,  and  myself, — I  am, 
yours  affectionately, 

S.  Parkes  C adman. 5 

But  perhaps  the  commendation  which  Collier  him¬ 
self  prized  most  highly,  and  which,  in  Manchester 
at  least,  was  of  most  real  service  to  him,  was  that 
expressed  again  and  again  by  Alexander  M‘Laren. 
In  the  ’eighties  and  ’nineties  of  the  last  century 
no  Manchester  citizen  wielded  a  greater  influence 
than  the  great  Baptist  preacher,  and  every  ounce 
of  it  was  thrown  into  Collier’s  scale.  For  years 


64 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


he  attended  regularly  the  anniversary  meeting  in 
the  Free  Trade  Hall,  and  once  even  went  so  far 
as  to  say  that  if  he  had  his  years  to  live  over  again 
he  would  try  to  shape  his  ministry  according  to 
the  pattern  shown  in  the  Manchester  Mission.1 

Yet  all  this,  interesting  as  it  is,  is  still  but  an 
inadequate  measure  of  the  widespread  influence 
of  Collier’s  life  and  work.  At  the  first  meeting  of 
the  Mission  Committee  after  his  death  a  resolution 
was  passed  in  which  it  was  said  that  ‘  under  his 
fostering  care  and  inspiring  leadership  ’  the  Mission 
had  grown  to  be  both  one  of  the  chief  centres  of 
Manchester’s  religious  life,  and  ‘  an  object-lesson 
to  Christian  Churches  in  all  parts  of  the  world.’ 
It  was  a  bold  claim  to  make,  but  it  is  justified  by 
the  facts.  Collier  himself  was  always  careful  to 
avoid  any  attempt  to  thrust  his  own  methods  on 
others  :  4  Work  your  own  field  according  to  its 
individual  soil,’  he  used  to  say.  It  is  none  the  less 
true  that  fruit  of  his  sowing  is  being  reaped  to-day 
in  many  churches  and  in  many  lands.  Dr.  Johnston 
Ross  once  said  that  he  could  wish  that  every  man 
who  was  seeking  to  enter  the  Christian  ministry 
in  England  were  ordered  to  spend  some  time  within 

1  It  was  probably  one  of  these  meetings  to  which  his  biographer  refers 
in  the  following  note  :  ‘  He  never  perhaps  took  part  in  a  meeting  in  the 
Free  Trade  Hall  when  the  large  building  was  not  filled  to  its  utmost 
capacity,  and  for  years  before  the  close  of  his  career,  almost  invariably 
the  immense  audience  rose  to  receive  him  and  cheered  enthusiastically. 
Once,  driving  home  from  one  of  these  meetings,  his  companion  ventured 
to  ask  him  if  he  could  recall  what  his  thoughts  were  as  he  stood  waiting 
till  the  applause  had  ceased.  “  Yes,”  he  said,  “perfectly;  I  all  but  heard 
the  words,  It  is  a  very  small  thing  that  I  should  be  judged  of  you,  or  of 
man  s  judgment ;  he  that  judgeth  me  is  the  Lord.”  ’ 


THE  MANCHESTER  MISSION 


65 


the  Mission  watching  and  sharing  in  its  operations  ; 
and,  as  a  glance  at  the  Visitors’  Book  at  the  Men’s 
Home  will  show,  men  did  come  from  almost  all 
Churches  and  all  lands,  in  order  that,  as  a  dis¬ 
tinguished  Australian  1  once  put  it,  they  might  be 
4  inoculated  with  the  Collier  lymph.’ 

v.  4  collier’s  mission  ’ 

4  An  institution,’  says  Emerson, 4  is  the  lengthened 
shadow  of  one  man.’  That  is  eminently  true  of 
Collier  and  the  Manchester  Mission.  He  identified 
himself  with  it  and  gave  himself  to  it  in  a  quite 
extraordinary  degree.  He  left  to  his  colleagues  a 
large  and  generous  freedom  in  working  out  their 
own  plans,  yet  just  as  a  great  editor  somehow 
manages  to  make  himself  felt  in  every  part  of  his 
journal,  so  did  every  part  of  the  complicated  organ¬ 
isation  of  the  Mission  bear  witness  to  the  deft  and 
shaping  touch  of  its  leader.  Never,  surely,  did 
any  man  live  for  one  thing  with  a  more  consuming 
passion.  He  had  few  4  chums  ’ ;  he  had  the  Mission, 
and  it  had  no  rival.  When  well-meaning  friends 
tried  to  lure  him  away  into  other  work  in  which 
they  were  interested,  he  let  them  know,  quite 
politely,  but  also  quite  definitely,  that  he  was  doing 
a  great  work  and  he  could  not  come  down.  During 
the  Great  War  he  was  invited  to  take  charge  of 
all  the  Y.M.C.A.  operations  in  France.  It  was  a 
great  opportunity,  and  he  would  have  risen  to  it. 
Moreover,  there  were  no  fewer  than  2400  names 

1  Rev.  Henry  Howard. 

E 


66 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


— including  those  of  his  own  four  sons— on  the 
Mission  Roll  of  Honour.1  But  he  dare  not  accept  : 

4  The  Mission  could  not  do  without  me,’  he  said 
simply.  And  when,  on  his  return  from  Australia 
in  1921,  he  was  urged  to  accept  the  Presidency  of 
the  Free  Church  Council,  again  he  declined.  His 
sun  was  sloping  to  the  west ;  the  few  remaining 
hours  of  daylight,  he  felt,  must  be  given  to  the 
Mission. 

Yet  in  all  this  there  was  no  ungenerous  forgetful¬ 
ness  of  colleagues  and  fellow-workers.  He  himself 
always  objected  when  he  heard  people  speak  about 
4  Collier’s  Mission.’  4  Collier’s  Mission,’  he  used  to 
say,  4  won’t  last ;  the  Manchester  Mission  will.’ 
Those  who  knew  him  will  remember  how  ready  he 
was  to  efface  himself,  how  little  he  cared  for  the 
limelight,  and  how  always  he  accepted  whatever 
public  recognition  was  accorded  him,  not  for  him¬ 
self,  but  only  as  the  representative  of  his  staff. 
And  it  was  right  that  it  should  be  so,  for  never  was 
a  man  served  by  a  more  loyal  succession  of  col¬ 
leagues,  both  ministerial  and  lay,  than  was  he.2 
Yet  they  themselves  would  be  the  first  to  acknow¬ 
ledge  that  when  the  man  on  the  street  spoke  about 
4  Collier’s  Mission,’  he  was  not  really  far  wrong. 

1  350  of  these  never  returned. 

2  It  is  impossible,  of  course,  to  name  them  here,  but  I  shall  be  readily 
forgiven,  I  know,  if  I  make  one  exception  in  the  case  of  the  late 
Jeremiah  Sackett.  Mr.  Sackett,  who  was  considerably  Collier’s  senior, 
was  his  lay  assistant  at  Lever  Street.  He  went  with  him  to  the  Central 
Hall,  and  remained  by  his  side  through  many  years,  a  man  whose  quiet 
strength  carried  many  burdens  for  his  ( chief,’  and  was  repaid  with  some¬ 
thing  like  the  affection  and  devotion  of  a  son. 


THE  MANCHESTER  MISSION 


67 


The  Manchester  Mission  was,  and  remains  to  this 
day,  the  embodiment  of  the  practical  sagacity, 
inspired  by  love,  which  for  thirty-six  years  Samuel 
Francis  Collier  consecrated  to  the  service  of  the 
Kingdom  of  God. 


NOTE  (p.  49). 

In  quoting  these  large  figures  some  note  may  be  taken 
of  a  criticism  which  was  not  unfrequently  heard  of 
the  Mission,  namely,  that  its  congregations  were  ‘too 
respectable,’  that  they  were  largely  made  up  of  men  and 
women  who,  if  they  had  not  been  in  the  Central  Hall  or 
Free  Trade  Hall,  would  have  been  in  some  other  religious 
service.  Statements  of  this  kind  are  obviously  difficult 
either  to  prove  or  to  disprove.  It  may  be  granted  that 
enthusiastic  estimates  of  the  Mission  workers  were  some¬ 
times  as  far  out  on  the  one  side  as  those  of  their  critics 
were  on  the  other,  and  that  many  were  to  be  found  in  the 
Mission  congregations  who  belonged  to  the  class  of  more 
or  less  regular  church-goers.  On  the  other  hand,  it  must 
be  remembered — (1)  that  to  a  certain  extent  the  thing 
complained  of  was  inevitable.  Popular  religious  services, 
wherever  they  are  held,  always  attract  many  besides  those 
who  are  immediately  sought.  People  go  where  people 
are ;  (2)  that,  after  all,  to  be  decently  dressed  is  not  one 
of  the  marks  of  the  religious,  or  that,  if  it  be,  the  very 
‘  respectability  ’  of  the  Mission  congregations  may  be 
claimed  as  an  outward  and  visible  sign  of  the  reality  of 
the  work  done ;  and  (3)  that  Collier  himself  was  always 
alive  to  the  peril  of  failure  to  get  down  low  enough,  and 
always  contriving  new  plans  to  defeat  it.  For  the  rest,  I 
am  content  to  quote  the  testimony  of  a  writer  in  the 


68 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


Manchester  City  News  who  was  present  at  one  of  the 
Central  Hall  services  in  1893  : — - 

‘The  speaker,’  he  says,  ‘had  a  unique  and  crowded 
congregation,  the  like  of  which  I  have  seldom  seen 
elsewhere.  It  consisted  mainly  of  respectable  artisans 
and  their  wives  and  families ;  present  also  were  many 
of  a  lower  order,  from  the  ranks  of  unskilled  and 
unsettled  labour,  nay,  probably  from  the  criminal 
class.  To  get  some  of  the  “roughs  ”  present  to  attend 
in  their  ragged  clothes  was  in  itself  a  triumph,  and 
there  were  women  as  well  as  men.  Now  it  argues 
some  devotion,  the  heroism  of  a  convert,  for  a  woman 
to  show  herself  in  shabby  clothes  on  a  Sunday  night 
in  a  public  assembly.  It  is  at  least  a  genuine  sign. 
It  is  also  to  the  credit  of  the  Central  Hall  people  that 
every  one  in  the  Hall  attended  on  a  footing  of  perfect 
equality;  there  were  no  reserved  seats  of  any  kind.’ 


CHAPTER  IV 
THE  LOVER  OF  SOULS 


At  this  point  it  will  be  well  to  drop  the  slender 
thread  of  narrative  in  order  to  set  forth  some 
aspects  of  Collier’s  life  and  character  as  these  were 
revealed  during  his  thirty-six  strenuous  Manchester 
years.  This  may  involve  a  certain  degree  of  over¬ 
lapping,  but  it  will  help  to  secure  a  greater  definite¬ 
ness  of  impression.  Half  a  dozen  snapshots  of  the 
man  while  he  is  at  his  work  will  perhaps  tell  us  more 
about  him  than  any  single  portrait,  however  care¬ 
fully  executed,  could  do. 

First  of  all,  then,  underlying  and  explaining  all, 
Collier  was  a  great  lover,  a  lover  of  souls. 

‘  I  want  an  even  strong  desire, 

I  want  a  calmly  fervent  zeal, 

To  save  poor  souls  out  of  the  fire, 

To  snatch  them  from  the  verge  of  hell — ’ 

It  was  that  passion,  like  a  fire  in  their  bones,  which 
drove  Wesley  and  Whitefield  out  into  the  highways 
and  hedges  of  England  in  the  eighteenth  century, 
and  it  was  the  same  passion  which  moved  and 
wrought  in  S.  F.  Collier.  Perhaps  in  nothing 
that  he  ever  said  did  he  manage  to  put  so  much 
of  himself  as  in  his  address  to  the  Pastoral  Session 


69 


70 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


of  the  Conference,  and  the  following  passage, 
so  characteristic  in  its  unadorned  plainness  and 
directness,  uncovers  for  us  the  spring  of  all  his 
activities  : — 

4  John  Wesley’s  dictum,  “  Your  business  is 
not  to  preach  so  many  times,  and  to  take  care  of 
this  or  that  society,  but  to  save  as  many  souls 
as  you  can,”  has  always  been  to  me  an  inspira¬ 
tion  and  a  law.  On  entering  the  ministry,  I 
was  struck  with  the  fact  that  the  Methodist 
Church  seemed  to  assert  just  the  opposite.  To 
take  the  appointments  on  the  plan,  to  dance 
attendance  on  members  (they  called  it  pastoral 
visitation)  when  there  was  no  reason,  to  pay 
attention  to  the  routine  business  of  the  society, 
all  this  seemed  to  be  first,  and  if  done,  satisfied 
the  Church.  The  one  work  to  which  I  felt 
called  of  God,  and  which  Wesley  put  in  the  first 
place,  evangelism ,  was  the  one  work  I  found  it 
most  difficult  to  do.  I  had  to  set  my  teeth  with 
fixed  determination  in  order  to  do  this,  the  chief 
work  of  my  life,  and  I  have  found  it  so  every 
year  since.  Everything  calls  for  attention 
first ;  every  official  and  member  seems  content 
if  other  things  are  done,  and  it  is  the  easiest 
thing  in  the  world  to  find  an  excuse  in  the 
crowd  of  demands  for  failing  to  be  aggres¬ 
sive,  enthusiastic,  successful,  as  a  soul-winner. 
Brethren,  we  must  put  Wesley’s  words  into 
practice,  and  to  do  this  we  must  be  prepared  to 
pay  the  price.’ 

Words  like  these  on  Collier’s  lips  must  be  given 
their  full  face  value,  for  never,  perhaps,  did  any 
Methodist  preacher  take  Wesley’s  familiar  counsel 
to  heart  more  seriously  than  he  did.  Everything 


THE  LOVER  OF  SOULS 


71 


else  he  let  go  that  he  might  win  men.  We  have 
seen  already  how,  first  Heaton  Mersey,  and  then 
Lever  Street,  put  an  end  to  his  dreams  of  a  univer¬ 
sity  degree.  And  the  same  singleness  of  purpose 
marked  his  whole  life.  To  the  very  end  he  took 
little  part  in  Conference,  or  in  Synods,  or  on  the 
connexional  committees  of  his  Church.  Nobody 
ever  dreamed  of  calling  him  an  ecclesiastical  states¬ 
man.  True,  he  indulged  in  no  easy  scorn  of  those 
who  gave  themselves  to  work  of  that  order ;  he 
knew  that  in  a  highly- organised  community  like 
that  to  which  he  belonged  such  work  is  necessary 
if  the  machinery  is  to  be  kept  running  smoothly  ; 
but  he  knew,  too,  that  it  was  not  for  him,  and  he  left 
it  to  others  whose  work  it  was.  On  the  other  hand, 
he  could  be  very  severe  with  the  religious  triflers 
in  the  Church  who  expect  their  minister  to  be  busy 
about  everything  except  his  main  business.  ‘  When 
I  went  to  my  first  circuit,’  a  colleague  once  heard 
him  say,  ‘  I  found  myself  in  charge  of  a  large,  but 
almost  empty,  church.  There  was  an  immense 
population  all  around,  and  I  set  myself  to  win  them. 
Many  things  claimed  me  and,  had  I  surrendered 
to  their  calls,  would  have  prevented  me  from 
accomplishing  my  main  purpose.  Certain  families 
grumbled  because  I  did  not  visit  them  ;  one  in 
particular.  I  would  rather,’  he  added  in  an  im¬ 
patient  aside,  ‘  I  would  rather  break  stones  than 
dance  attendance  on  people  of  that  sort.  One  day,’ 
he  went  on,  ‘  I  took  my  Bible  and  called  on 
this  family.  I  asked  that  all  the  members  of  the 


72 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


household  who  could  be  spared  should  be  called  to¬ 
gether.  When  they  had  assembled  I  read  a  chapter. 
Then  I  said,  “There  is  something  I  should  like  to  say 
to  you  all.”  I  had  noticed  that  they  only  attended 
church  once  on  Sundays,  and  I  suggested  that  it 
would  be  a  great  help  if  they  would  try  to  be  present 
at  both  services.  Next  I  mentioned  that  I  had 

heard  that  Miss  -  (the  eldest  daughter  in  the 

family)  had  given  up  her  Sunday  school  class.  “  I 
am  very  sorry  to  hear  that,”  I  said,  “  I  am  sure  she 
ought  to  return.”  Then  I  knelt  down  and  prayed. 
They  never  wanted  me  again.  What  they  were 
anxious  for  was  tea  and  gossip,  not  pastoral 
visitation.’ 

It  should  be  understood,  too,  that  when  Collier 
said  that  evangelism  was  the  one  work  to  which 
he  felt  called  of  God,  he  meant  something  much 
more  than  the  conducting  of  what  are  called 
4  evangelistic  services.’  Evangelism  was  for  him, 
first  of  all,  a  personal  obligation  ;  it  was  something 
which  he  owed  not  merely  to  a  congregation  but  to 
A.  B.  and  C.  D.  He  carried  the  crowd  on  his 
heart,  because  he  carried  there  the  suffering,  sinning 
men  and  women  who  make  up  the  crowd.  Jesus 
findeth  Philip  .  .  .  Philip  findeth  Nathanael :  there 
is  no  other  way  for  Jesus  to  Nathanael  but  by  way 
of  Philip,  and  Collier  was  always  ready  to  be  Philip 
to  some  Nathanael.  It  is  work  like  that  which 
tests  the  strength  and  sincerity  of  a  man’s  purpose. 
It  was  a  great  day  in  the  life  of  the  Baptist  when 
there  went  out  unto  him  Jerusalem ,  and  all  Judaea , 


THE  LOVER  OF  SOULS 


73 


and  all  the  region  round  about  Jordan ,  and  lie 
preached  unto  them,  saying,  Repent  ye ;  for  the 
kingdom  of  heaven  is  at  hand .  But  the  Baptist’s 
supreme  hour  came  when  he  faced  the  adulterous 
Herod  in  his  palace  alone  and  did  not  flinch  :  It 
is  not  lawful  for  thee  to  have  thy  brother's  wife . 
Christ’s  philanthropy,  as  Robertson  of  Brighton 
once  said,  was  no  mere  abstraction ;  it  was  an 
aggregate  of  personal  attachments  :  Jesus  loved 
Martha ,  and  her  sister ,  and  Lazarus .  It  is  there 
where  we  so  often  fail.  4  She  would  give,’  Charlotte 
Bronte  writes  of  one  of  her  characters,  4  in  the 
readiest  manner  to  people  she  had  never  seen — 
rather,  however,  to  classes  than  to  individuals. 
Pour  les  pauvres ,  she  opened  her  purse  freely  ; 
against  the  poor  man ,  as  a  rule,  she  kept  it  closed. 
In  philanthropic  schemes  for  the  benefit  of  society 
at  large  she  took  a  cheerful  part :  no  private  sorrow 
touched  her.’  But  that  was  not  Collier’s  way. 
He  kept  his  compassion  for  the  multitude  fresh  and 
strong,  because  he  would  not  suffer  the  individual 
to  be  merged  in  the  multitude.  One  of  his  frequent 
morning  prayers,  a  Sister  of  the  Mission  says,  was 
that  God  would  send  him  some  one  that  day  whom 
he  might  help.  4 1  am  increasingly  impressed  by 
the  fact,’  writes  one  of  his  old  colleagues,  4  that 
without  44  visiting  ”  (in  the  usual  sense)  he  had 
given  scores  of  people  the  feeling  that  he  was  as 
interested  in  them  as  if  there  were  no  others  on  his 
mind.’  The  point  is  of  so  much  importance  for  a 
right  appreciation  of  Collier’s  work  as  an  evangelist 


74 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


that  it  will  be  well  to  set  down  a  little  handful  of 
facts  in  illustration  of  it. 

In  the  early  days  of  the  Mission  Collier  used  to 
pay  surprise  visits  by  night  to  the  smoke-rooms 
and  public-houses  of  the  neighbourhood,  in  search 
of  young  men — sometimes  the  sons  of  worthy  and 
well-to-do  city  families — who  were  beginning  to 
play  the  fool.  Even  the  public  duties  of  his  busy 
Presidential  year  brought  no  exemption  from  the 
claims  of  personal  service.  4  When  he  was  Presi¬ 
dent  of  the  Conference,’  writes  one  of  his  most 
intimate  friends,  4  he  came  home  one  evening, 
took  in  his  hand  a  bundle  of  cards,  and  spent  an 
hour  working  by  himself  through  the  queues  out¬ 
side  the  theatre  doors  in  Peter  Street,  inviting  the 
people  to  the  Mission.’  Here  is  a  second  incident 
of  the  same  year.  He  arrived  in  one  of  our  northern 
cities  about  mid-day  ;  he  was  the  chief  speaker  at 
two  enormous  gatherings,  afternoon  and  evening, 
and  reached  his  home  tired  out  after  nine  at  night. 
There  he  met  a  boy,  the  son  of  his  host,  who  had 
manifested  a  real  concern  about  religion,  and  to 
him  another  half-hour  was  given  in  private  talk 
and  prayer.  The  decision  registered  that  night, 
the  father  writes,  still  stands.  The  following  is 
from  a  lady  who  served  for  several  years  as  Collier’s 
clerical  secretary ;  and  is  best  given  in  her  own 
words  :  4  He  expected  utter  devotion  to  the  work 
from  his  staff,  but  to  him  we  were  human  beings, 
not  machines,  and  he  took  the  trouble  to  under¬ 
stand  us  individually  and  to  treat  us  accordingly. 


THE  LOVER  OF  SOULS 


75 


At  that  time  (1905)  I  was  the  youngest  member 
on  the  staff,  and  as  I  look  back  now  I  realise  how 
carefully  he  sought  to  guard  me  from  the  danger 
of  too  great  familiarity  with  the  material  side  of 
a  great  Christian  organisation.  He  held  himself 
responsible  for  me  spiritually,  and  I  have  known 
him  stop  in  the  middle  of  dictating  a  batch  of 
letters  to  ask  me  some  personal  question  that 
seemed  almost  trivial,  but  the  answer  to  which 
conveyed  more  than  I  knew  at  the  time  to  his 
observant  mind.  Once  he  said  to  me,  “  I  was 
lying  awake  thinking  about  you  last  night ;  I ’m 
very  anxious  you  shouldn’t  lose  your  keenness 
for  spiritual  things  because  you  ’re  doing  clerical 
work  all  day.”  I  was  amazed,  knowing  so  well 
the  endless  demands  made  upon  his  thought  and 
care,  that  he  should  have  troubled  about  me 
personally  ;  but  it  was  just  those  human  touches 
that  endeared  him  to  us  and  brought  the  best 
out  of  us.’  The  simple  truth  is  that  where  he 
judged  the  highest  interests  of  others  were  con¬ 
cerned,  Collier  was  never  4  off  duty.’  During  his 
later  years  he  had  a  home  at  Deganwy,  in  North 
Wales.  But  even  there,  where  he  went  for  the 
rest  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  get  in  Manchester, 
he  must  needs  be  up  and  doing.  He  interested 
himself  in  establishing  a  Sunday  English  service, 
and  immediately  set  to  work  to  gather  a  con¬ 
gregation  on  his  usual  Mission  principle  that 
people  must  be  sought  and  found  one  by  one. 
One  man  he  visited  eighteen  times  in  vain,  and 


76 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


was  on  the  point  of  giving  up  in  despair ;  but  the 
nineteenth  time  he  got  him.  Equally  typical  is 
a  little  incident  which  occurred  on  the  return 
journey  with  Mrs.  Collier  from  Australia,  in  the 
early  weeks  of  1921,  the  year  of  his  death.  They 
spent  a  few  days  en  route  in  the  south  of  France. 
At  Monte  Carlo  Collier  visited  the  Casino  and 
watched  the  gamblers.  He  was  particularly  in¬ 
terested  in  observing  a  young  married  couple  who 
had  yielded  to  the  fatal  fascination  of  the  play. 
Presently  he  saw  them  rise  hurriedly  from  the 
table  and  overheard  the  husband  say,  4  Oh,  my 
God  !  I  ’ve  lost  everything  ;  I  ’ve  lost  £500.’  At 
the  moment  nothing  further  happened,  but  again 
and  again,  afterwards,  Collier  reproached  himself 
that  he  had  not  obeyed  the  impulse  to  speak  to 
them.  All  through  the  night  and  repeatedly  on 
the  way  home  he  was  haunted  by  what  he  called 
4  My  lost  opportunity.’ 

Nor  was  there  in  all  this  the  smallest  touch  of 
unreality  or  cant.  I  have  failed  altogether  to  show 
my  friend  as  he  was  if  anything  that  I  have  written 
has  even  faintly  suggested  that  odious  character, 
the  religious  busybody  who  delights  to  pester 
strangers  with  his  unctuous  impertinences.  Collier’s 
zeal  never  tired,  but  it  never  ran  away  with  him  ; 
it  was  directed  by  as  cool  and  sane  a  judgment  as 
any  Manchester  merchant  brought  to  the  morning 
tasks  of  his  city  office.  But  things  like  those  I 
have  named  show  how  steadily  the  wind  blew  from 
the  same  quarter,  how  deep  and  abiding  was  the 


THE  LOVER  OF  SOULS 


77 


love  which  moved  him  to  seek  by  all  means  to 
save  some.  Indeed,  there  were  few  things  that 
he  dreaded  more,  for  himself  or  for  his  fellow- 
workers,  than  that  they  should  slip  into  the  worn 
and  shining  grooves  of  Church  routine,  holding 
the  appointed  meetings,  going  the  daily  round, 
blind  to  the  steady  slackening  of  the  central  im¬ 
pulse.  4 1  remember,’  one  of  the  Sisters  of  the 
Mission  writes,  4  the  first  Sunday  morning  he  came 
to  preach  at  the  Bridgewater  Hall  after  my  going 
there.  He  asked  me  how  I  was  getting  on.  In 
telling  him  of  the  drinking  among  the  women — 
a  slum  district  was  a  new  experience  to  me  then — 
I  was  overwhelmed  and  the  tears  ran  down  my 
face.  Putting  his  hand  on  my  shoulder,  he  said  : 
44  Amy  ” — he  always  called  us  by  name — 44  pray 
you  may  always  keep  that  tender  heart  and  never 
get  hardened  to  the  sin  and  need.”  ’ 

And  it  was  because  he  kept  his  own  heart  tender 
to  the  needs  of  others  that  men  and  women  in 
need  turned  to  him  with  such  eager,  pathetic 
confidence.  Henry  Drummond’s  biographer  has 
told  us  how  the  large  trust  which  his  personality 
and  his  writings  so  magically  produced  made  him, 
perhaps  beyond  any  of  his  contemporaries,  the 
father-confessor  of  multitudes  of  souls  in  religious 
perplexity.  They  were  men  and  women  of  another 
type  who  turned  to  Collier ;  their  sorrows  sprang 
from  a  different  root ;  but  they  were  not  less  sure 
that  he  could  and  would  help  them.  Day  after 
day  the  letters  poured  in  upon  him — letters  from 


78 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


the  ignorant,  the  poor,  the  maimed,  the  despairing  ; 
letters  from  broken-hearted  fathers  and  mothers, 
wives  and  sweethearts.  4  More  trouble,  Gipsy,’ 
he  said  one  day  to  his  friend  Gipsy  Smith,  as  he 
laid  his  hand  on  the  usual  morning  pile,  4  more 
trouble.’  A  small  bundle  of  these  letters,  old  and 
faded  now,  has  been  preserved,  and  one  can  still 
read  between  the  lines  the  sad  life  histories  of 
which  they  tell,  and  the  love  to  which  they  make 
their  appeal.  One,  for  example,  is  about  a  fugitive 
from  justice,  whom  Collier  persuaded  to  give 
himself  up  and  who  was  given  a  second  chance. 
Another  is  a  pencilled  scrawl  from  a  gaol-bird 
who  had  been  twice  sentenced  to  seven  years’  penal 
servitude  :  4  O  sir,  if  you  could  only  get  me  some¬ 
thing  to  do,  nothing  would  tempt  me  to  go  astray. 
I  should  like  to  let  my  friends  see  how  different  I 
could  be.  I  am  now  in  a  miserable  condition  ;  I 
wander  about  like  a  lost  sheep.  Try  me,  sir,  and 
help  me  to  get  work,  and  with  God’s  help  I  will 
be  a  credit  to  you,  sir,  and  everybody  around.’ 
Another,  the  saddest  of  them  all,  is  from  a  young 
girl :  4  I  am  so  young,’  she  says,  4  only  seventeen, 
and  my  life  seems  finished.  I  was  very  nearly 
drowning  myself  last  Tuesday.  I  can  never  be 
the  same  again,  and  I  was  so  happy.  But  don’t 
turn  against  me,  love  me  and  pray  for  me.’  And 
sometimes  the  appeal  to  pity  and  to  save  came  not 
by  post  but  in  person.  He  was  going  down  to 
his  office  one  sombre,  foggy  Manchester  morning  ; 
on  his  way  he  passed,  without  noticing,  two  persons 


THE  LOVER  OF  SOULS 


79 


standing  together  in  the  gloom.  Then  a  woman’s 
voice  called  to  him  :  ‘  Mr.  Collier,’  she  said,  4  you 
have  done  your  best  to  help  me  ;  you  have  tried 
to  save  me,  and  I ’m  thankful  to  you  for  what 
you  have  done  ;  but  there  is  no  hope  for  me ;  I 
am  already  in  hell.  But  do  you  see  this  lassie  ?  ’ 
she  went  on,  pointing  to  her  companion,  4  she  is 
only  seventeen,  and  she  is  straight,  and  last 
night  she  drifted  into  the  hell  where  I  am,  and 
she  has  no  money  and  no  friend.  But  she  is 
straight,  and  you  know  what  would  have  happened; 
so  I  gave  up  my  living  last  night  and  slept 
with  her,  and  I  have  come  to  you  this  morning 
to  ask  you,  for  the  sake  of  what  I  once  was,  to 
save  her.’ 

And  this  lover  of  souls,  too,  as  Myers  says  of 
St.  Paul,  had  souls  for  his  hire.  The  little  sheaf 
of  letters  from  which  I  have  been  quoting  contains 
not  only  appeals  but  glad,  tearful  responses.  Some 
come  from  men  and  women  in  Canada  and  in  the 
United  States  of  America,  whom  he  had  helped  to 
set  on  their  feet,  and  who,  in  the  language  of  their 
adopted  country,  were  4  making  good.’  One  is 
from  the  fugitive  from  justice  referred  to  in  the 
last  paragraph  who  writes  full  of  humble  gratitude 
for  all  that  had  been  done  for  him.  4  I  shall  never 
forget,’  says  another,  a  minister’s  son,  who  had 
lost  his  place  on  the  social  ladder  through  his  own 
wrongdoing  and  had  been  helped  back  again  by  the 
Men’s  Home — 4 1  shall  never  forget  how,  when  I  was 
homeless,  destitute,  and  friendless  in  Manchester, 


80 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


you  held  out  the  helping  hand  to  me,  how  you 
placed  me  in  the  Home,  and  what  an  influence  my 
residence  there  has  had  on  my  life.  I  dare  not 
think  had  not  God  in  His  goodness  guided  me  to 
you  what  might  have  happened.’  One  corre¬ 
spondent  who  is  to  take  the  chair  at  a  Home 
Missionary  Meeting,  and  wants  some  literature  on 
the  subject,  adds  in  a  postscript,  4  I  don’t  mind 
telling  you  that  at  one  time  I  bought  my  clothes 
in  Flat  Iron  Market,1  but,  praise  God,  His  grace  has 
worked  a  wonderful  change  in  my  life.’  My  last 
extract,  which  I  give  exactly  as  it  stands,  spelling, 
punctuation,  and  all,  speaks  for  itself : — 

6  Mr.  Collier, — Through  gods  grace,  i  must 
acknolage.  hearing  your  sermain.  in  manchester. 
some  six  weekes  ago.  i  have  not  only  turned 
oveer.  a  new  leafe.  but  christ.  our  evenly  farther, 
has  given  mee  a  new  book,  for  to  comance  my 
new  and  hapy  life  with,  i  often  get  thrown  from 
one  side  of  the  engine  rom  to  the  other,  i  wested 
(?  used)  for  to  utter  a  kurse.  but  now  i  thank 
god  i  can  sing  his  praises,  i  trust  i  may  soon  find 
employement  where  i  can  spend  more  time  in 
gods  worke.  as  it  is  the  happyest.  time  i  ever 
experienced  in  all  my  life,  the  drink  has  been  the 
ruine  of  my  life  and  home,  but  christ  has  taken 
all  my  craven  for  it  away,  i  must  now  thank  our 
hevenly  farther  for  the  paciance  and  kindness  he 
has  bestowed  on  a  sinner  as  i  have  been,  god 
keep  mee  faithfull.  Sir  your  at  liberty  for  to 
make  this  known,  as  i  was  a  well  known 
drunkerd.  and  a  blastfeamer.  in  manchester.’ 

1  A  well-known  rendezvous  in  Manchester  where  second-hand  goods 
are  offered  for  sale. 


THE  LOVER  OF  SOULS 


81 


So  did  love  bend  low  beneath  his  brother’s  burden, 
thankful  when  the  answer  and  the  guerdon  were 
given,  yet  not  cast  down  when  they  were  denied, 

‘  Knowing  one  thing  the  sacredest  and  fairest — 
Knowing  there  is  not  anything  but  Love.’ 


F 


CHAPTER  V 


THE  WORKER 

In  trying  to  give  some  idea  of  Collier  as  a  worker  it 
will  be  best  to  begin  by  describing  his  normal 
working  day.  What  is  said  elsewhere  in  these 
pages  will  be  enough  to  show  how  his  Sundays 
were  spent.  Morning,  noon  and  night  the  services 
went  on — large  and  small,  indoor  and  outdoor, 
ordinary  and  special — almost  without  a  break. 
Yet  Collier  was  often  heard  to  say  that  for  him 
Sunday  was  the  easiest  day  of  the  week.  Every 
morning,  Monday  included,  he  left  home  for  his 
office  shortly  after  8.30.  At  9.30  he  conducted 
worship  with  the  members  of  his  staff.  The  rest 
of  the  morning  was  spent  answering  letters,  inter¬ 
viewing  callers,  consulting  with  colleagues,  directing 
and  inspiring  the  ceaseless  4  offensive  ’  which  had 
its  4  General  Headquarters  5  at  the  Central  Hall. 
Whenever  possible  he  took  his  mid-day  meal  at 
home,  returning  to  continue  the  work  of  the 
morning  until  five  or  six.  The  evenings  were  almost 
always  taken  up  with  meetings  of  one  kind  or 
another,  and  he  was  rarely  home  until  a  late  hour. 
The  Saturday  nights  of  the  winter  saw  him  in 
charge  of  the  Popular  Concert  which  was  from  the 

first  a  conspicuous  item  in  the  Mission’s  weekly 
82 


THE  WORKER 


83 


programme.  Ministers  who  manage  to  get  at  least 
a  few  quiet  morning  hours  in  the  study  with  their 
books  will  know  how  to  appreciate  the  sacrifice  that 
all  this  involved.  4  The  books  of  a  minister’s 
study,’  wrote  one  ministerial  visitor  after  coming 
away  from  that  busy  room  in  the  Central  Hall, 
4  are  more  alluring  than  an  office  whose  library 
consists  of  Mission  Reports,  and  the  memoranda 
of  the  various  branches.  It  is  sweeter  to  think 
quietly  in  the  suburbs  than  to  work  long  hours  in 
a  room  to  the  click  of  typewriters,  and  to  the 
constant  ring  of  a  telephone  bell.  The  prospect 
from  the  office  window  is  that  of  high  buildings, 
and  a  smoky  sky.  The  streets  without  ring  to  the 
slow  beat  of  horses’  feet,  clanging  as  they  pull  the 
weighted  lorries  with  their  loads  of  cotton  over  the 
cobbled  stones.’  But  Collier  himself  asked  for 
no  man’s  pity  ;  he  was  in  the  way  of  duty,  and  he 
cast  no  lingering  looks  behind. 

It  was  every  way  characteristic  of  Collier  that, 
as  I  have  already  said,  he  made  no  difference 
between  Monday  and  the  other  days  of  the  week. 
Many  ministers  whom  no  one  would  charge  with 
laziness  feel  themselves  fully  at  liberty  to  4  ease 
off  ’  a  little  as  soon  as  Sunday  is  past.  But  Collier 
had  an  almost  morbid  horror  of  anything  that 
might  justify  the  lay  suspicion  of  ministerial  slack¬ 
ness.  4  Mondayishness  ’  in  his  eyes  was  simply  a 
bad  habit  which  was  not  to  be  yielded  to.  4  If 
you  must  have  a  day  off,’  he  said  once,  not  very 
consistently,  to  the  members  of  a  ministers’  meeting, 


84 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


4  take  Tuesday,  and  so  avoid  the  common  gibe 
about  ministerial  Mondays.’  4  Never  advertise 
your  recreations  ’  was  another  of  his  counsels  in 
the  same  vein.  And  when  he  said  these  things  his 
aim  was  both  right  and  wise ;  nevertheless,  it 
sometimes  led  him  to  be  unfair  both  to  himself  and 
to  others.  He  seemed  to  forget  that  the  business 
man  whose  stern  application  to  duty  was  his  daily 
judge  had  always  his  Sunday  free,  and  often  a 
half-day  in  addition,  while  he  had  only  occasionally 
the  one,  and  never,  except  during  his  brief  holidays, 
the  other.  And  Nature,  as  is  her  way,  sent  in  the 
bill  in  the  form  of  occasional  and  sometimes  serious 
breakdowns  in  health.  As  early  as  1888,  when  he 
had  only  been  three  years  in  Manchester,  he  had 
to  go  away  on  a  long  sea  voyage  to  recruit.  The 
marvel  to  many  of  his  friends  is  not  that  he  died 
worn  out  at  sixty-six,  but  that  under  such  constant 
and  tremendous  pressure  his  strength  held  out  so 
long.  But  the  ideal  never  relaxed  its  hold  upon 
him  ;  again  and  again  he  would  say,  4  When  I  fail 
to  put  into  my  work  as  much  time  and  thought  as 
the  best  business  man  in  Manchester  puts  into  his 
business,  it  will  be  time  to  retire.’  Nor  did  Man¬ 
chester  business  men  fail  to  recognise  his  tireless 
devotion.  One  of  them  once  remarked  to  one  of 
his  colleagues  that  he  believed  in  the  type  of 
Christianity  that  got  a  man  up  in  the  morning. 

4 1  used  to  pass  Collier,’  he  said,  4  on  my  way  to 
business  every  morning,  and  though  I  never  spoke 
to  him,  the  sight  of  him  going  as  faithfully  to  his 


THE  WORKER 


85 


work  as  I  went  to  business  impressed  me  very 
much.’ 

It  was,  I  suppose,  this  aspect  of  the  man  that 
led  one  of  his  associates  to  speak  about  his  4  ruth¬ 
lessness.  ’  4  He  combined,’  he  says,  4  the  ruthless¬ 

ness  of  the  organiser  with  the  emotional  zeal  of  the 
evangelist.  Had  he  been  a  general  in  the  army 
he  would  not  have  spared  his  men,  nor  himself ; 
he  would  have  sought  success  in  battle  at  any  cost.’ 
And  he  goes  on  to  compare  him,  in  this  respect, 
with  Florence  Nightingale,  who  made  slaves  of  all 
who  came  under  her  command,  and,  blind  to  every¬ 
thing  else  save  her  own  benevolent  schemes,  was 
sometimes  strangely  unjust  even  to  her  most 
devoted  friends  and  servants.  There  is,  perhaps, 
a  measure  of  truth  in  this.  It  is  certainly  not 
surprising  if  some  who  lacked  his  driving  power, 
and  could  never  go  his  pace,  sometimes  stood  in 
awe  of  his  almost  pitiless  energy.  Yet  even  though 
they  murmured  they  could  never  forget  that,  hard 
as  he  worked  them,  he  worked  himself  still  harder. 
Quite  early  in  the  history  of  the  Mission  one  shrewd 
observer  noted,  4  Collier  never  asks  man  or  woman 
to  do  work  which  he  is  not  prepared  to  do  himself. 
He  is  quite  as  much  at  home  at  the  head  of  a  band- 
march  through  the  filthiest  slums  in  Manchester, 
or  in  a  cottage  service,  or  in  house-to-house  visita¬ 
tion,  as  he  is  on  the  platform  of  the  Free  Trade  Hall, 
or  in  the  office  of  the  Central  Hall.’  There,  un¬ 
doubtedly,  was  one  secret  of  the  immense  amount 
of  work  that  was  daily  got  through  in  the  Mission  : 


86 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


Collier  never  spared  himself,  he  was  never  merely 
a  director  of  the  work  of  others  ;  and  if  he  was,  as 
the  old  story  of  his  boyhood  suggested,  very  clever 
at  getting  other  fellows  to  carry  his  parcels,  it  was 
always  the  heaviest  pack  that  he  kept  for  his  own 
shoulders.  Like  Sir  Walter  Scott,  he  could  4  toil 
terribly.’  No  smallest  detail  of  his  vast  organisa¬ 
tion  seemed  to  escape  him.  A  sentence  from  one 
of  the  annual  reports  of  the  Mission  shows  how 
the  business  man’s  ideal  of  unrelenting  thoroughness 
pursued  him  in  everything  :  4  All  the  results  are 
carefully  tabulated.  Registers  of  all  members  and 
of  all  inquirers  are  kept  with  the  promptitude  and 
precision  of  a  business  house.’  Occupy — trade — 
till  I  come  was  the  Master’s  injunction  to  His 
servants,  and  this  servant  would  accept  no  discharge 
from  either  advancing  years  or  failing  strength. 
In  a  brief,  hasty  note  to  his  son  Donald,  dated 
May  13,  1911,  and  written  when  some  throat 
trouble  kept  him  out  of  the  pulpit,  he  says : 
4 1  am  still  resting  at  home.  Mother  says  I  am 
working  hard.  Well,  I  have  to  keep  silent,  and 
I  must  find  other  ways  of  serving  the  Master 
and  extending  His  kingdom.  Life  is  too  short 
to  be  idle  altogether.  There  is  always  a  chance 
to  be  busy  in  some  way  or  other  for  Christ.’ 
But  mere  4  busyness  ’  accomplishes  nothing ;  like 
an  unbanked  stream  it  turns  no  mill-wheels,  it 
grinds  no  man’s  corn ;  it  becomes  of  service 
only  when  there  is  behind  it  a  strong,  directing 
mind.  And  it  was  Collier’s  other  gifts  as  a 


THE  WORKER 


87 


worker  that  for  him  turned  to  gold  his  great  gift 
of  industry. 

(1)  To  begin  with,  his  industry  was  yoked  to  a 
very  uncommon  shrewdness.  The  title  of  one  of 
his  addresses,  which  was  at  one  time  something 
of  a  favourite  with  him,  was  4  Common-sense  in 
Christian  Work  ’  ;  and  he  was  himself  the  very 
embodiment  of  it.  It  came  out  in  various  ways. 
For  example,  outsiders  often  expressed  their  as¬ 
tonishment  at  the  apparent  ease  with  which  the 
arrangements  for  the  Tuesday  Noon-day  Services 
and  the  great  Anniversary  Meetings  were  carried 
through,  and  the  regularity  with  which  the  money 
poured  in  for  the  support  of  the  manifold  enter¬ 
prises  of  the  Mission.  If  they  had  had  the  least 
glimpse  of  what  went  on  behind  the  scenes,  their 
astonishment  would  have  been  modified.  Nothing 
was  left  to  chance ;  there  were  no  last  minute 
arrangements — and,  be  it  said,  little  mercy  for 
those  who  were  content  to  make  them — the  results 
attained  were  the  results  which  had  been  long 
and  carefully  worked  for.  Again,  there  was  a 
certain  wiliness  in  the  way  in  which,  at  a  time  when 
some  of  his  Mission  methods  had  yet  to  win  their 
way  to  general  recognition,  he  sometimes  prepared 
himself  to  propitiate  hostile  opinion.  Where  he 
was  fully  convinced,  he  was  not  afraid  to  go  ahead 
alone,  but  as  a  matter  of  prudence  he  would  some¬ 
times  quietly  make  sure  of  the  good-will  of  men 
who  were  not  directly  responsible  for  what  he  was 
doing,  but  who  could  be  counted  on  to  stand  by 


88 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


him  if  opposition  arose.  To  no  man  did  he  turn 
in  such  circumstances  more  confidently  than  to 
Dr.  Henry  J.  Pope,  and  in  none  did  he  find  a  more 
loyal  friend. 

Collier  was  not  a  bit  of  a  doctrinaire.  Methods 
of  work  in  his  eyes  were  simply  means  to  an  end  ; 
when  they  failed  to  get  there  he  scrapped  them 
without  mercy.  The  Mission  was  there  to  save 
men,  and,  says  one  of  his  colleagues,  4  he  would 
have  cast  the  whole  organisation  into  the  flames 
if  it  would  generate  heat  to  save  one  more  soul.’ 
4  If,’  he  said,  in  one  of  his  informal  talks  to  the 
members  of  his  staff — 4  if  you  find  any  of  your 
methods  falling  flat,  or  failing,  don’t  continue  to 
flog  a  dead  horse.  Never  mind  how  successful 
the  method  has  been  in  the  past,  leave  it,  cast  it 
aside  and  expect  God  to  give  you  a  new  idea  with 
which  to  meet  the  demand  of  the  present.  Prayer¬ 
fully  think  it  out  and  go  ahead.’  There  speaks  the 
man  ;  an  enthusiast — yes,  but  an  enthusiast  wary 
in  his  enthusiasm,  making  it  always  the  servant  of 
a  cool  and  practised  intelligence,  fitting  means  to 
ends  with  that  unerring  instinct  which,  I  suppose, 
usually  goes  along  with  the  highest  kind  of  general¬ 
ship.  There  was  in  Collier  something  akin  to  the 
4  ice  sense  ’  which,  it  is  said,  some  sea-captains 
have,  which  enables  them  to  detect  the  neighbour¬ 
hood  of  icebergs  which  are  indiscernible  by  any  one 
else.  He  seemed  to  see  how  things  were  going- 
while  others  were  still  groping  in  the  dark,  and — 
to  change  the  figure — he  had  his  ship  trimmed  to 


THE  WORKER  89 

meet  the  new  set  of  the  tide.  But  this  was 
more  than  instinct ;  it  was  as  well  the  wisdom 
that  is  born  of  long  and  patient  observa¬ 
tion.  Collier  was  always  on  the  watch.  A 
worker  in  one  of  the  branches  of  the  Mission 
says  that  whenever  he  went  to  take  a  service 
there  he  would  leave  home  early  in  order  to 
walk  through  the  small,  mean  streets  of  the 
neighbourhood,  and  gather  if  he  could  new  sug¬ 
gestions  for  his  workers.  So  he  moved  from  facts 
to  theories,  and  from  theories  back  again  to 
facts,  always  with  his  eye  on  things  as  they  are, 
and  always  fashioning  his  tools  for  the  work  they 
had  to  do. 

(2)  Another  of  Collier’s  characteristics  as  a  worker 
was  his  ready  resourcefulness,  his  ingenuity  in 
devising  new  ways  of  doing  good.  Once  in  a  staff 
meeting  he  prayed — and  the  prayer  lived  in  a 
colleague’s  memory — 4  Lord,  make  us  clever  in 
Thy  work.’  Equally  characteristic  was  his  counsel, 
4  Work  in  ways  unthought  of.’  That  was  what  he 
himself  was  always  doing.  4  One  of  God’s  com¬ 
mercial  travellers,’  a  religious  journalist  once  called 
him  ;  and  no  representative  of  a  business  house 
was  ever  more  alive  to  his  opportunities,  more  eager 
to  break  new  ground  and  do  new  business,  than  the 
superintendent  of  the  Manchester  Mission.  He  was 
continually  trying  fresh  experiments ;  if  they 
succeeded,  well  and  good ;  if  they  failed,  or  if 
their  usefulness  was  quickly  exhausted,  he  dropped 
them  at  once.  The  superintendent  of  one  of  the 


90 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


other  Central  Missions  of  Methodism  once  laughingly 
complained  that  if  he  got  hold  of  what  he  thought 
was  a  fresh  idea  in  Christian  work,  he  was  sure  to 
find  that  Collier  was  ahead  of  him  with  it.  Two 
or  three  illustrations  will  best  show  how  love  first 
divined  the  need  and  then  planned  to  minister 
to  it. 

One  November,  many  years  ago,  during  Man¬ 
chester  race-week,  when  the  city  streets  were 
crowded  late  at  night  with  multitudes  of  the  very 
men  whom  the  Mission  laid  itself  out  to  win, 
Collier  arranged  a  series  of  midnight  mission  ser¬ 
vices.  He  conducted  each  of  them  himself,  and 
one  who  was  with  him  throughout  the  week  re¬ 
members  to  this  day,  with  something  like  awe, 
how  he  prayed  and  pleaded  and  wrestled,  as  only 
he  could,  with  the  great  motley  throngs  that, 
night  after  night,  found  their  way  to  the  Central 
Hall.  In  1910,  what  St.  Paul  might  have  called 
‘  a  great  door  and  effectual  ’  was  opened  to  him  by 
the  erection,  in  Peter  Street,  of  the  Albert  Hall  and 
Aston  Institute,  perhaps  the  most  perfectly  planned 
and  equipped  Mission  premises  in  the  country. 
Various  departments  of  work  which  had  had  their 
rallying  point  in  the  Free  Trade  Hall  Sunday 
evening  service,  and  which  had  hitherto  been 
carried  on  amid  the  gravest  inconveniences,  were 
now  provided  for,  together  with  the  evening  service 
itself,  in  the  new  buildings  across  the  way.  At 
once  Collier’s  busy  brain  fell,  like  some  strong¬ 
winged  bird  of  prey,  on  the  happy  task  of  turning 


THE  WORKER 


91 


his  new  opportunity  to  the  best  account.  Never 
satisfied  with  what  was  already  being  done,  he 
would  spend  hours  in  consultation  with  his  workers, 
trying  to  discover  social  and  religious  needs  of  the 
complex  community  about  them,  for  which  no  one 
else  had  taken  thought,  and  how  best  to  meet  them. 
In  this  way — I  pass  over  a  host  of  more  ordinary 
agencies — special  gatherings  were  arranged  for  street 
hawkers  and  newsvendors  and  old  4  cabbies  ’ — a 
collection  of  human  oddities  in  entertaining  whom 
Collier  was  often  at  his  best — and  for  the  caretakers 
of  business  premises  in  the  neighbourhood ;  a 
room  was  set  apart  for  hospital  nurses ;  there 
were  classes  for  the  Chinese  engaged  in  the  city 
laundries ;  cards  were  hung  in  the  neighbouring 
hotels  inviting  the  waiters,  servants  and  porters 
to  the  services  of  the  Mission.  Was  there  any 
lonely,  neglected  corps  in  the  great  army  of  the 
city’s  workers  whose  need  Collier  did  not  set  him¬ 
self  to  understand  and  to  serve  ?  And  so  it  con¬ 
tinued  to  be  to  the  very  end  of  his  life.  Only  the 
Easter  before  he  died  he  was  talking  over  the 
possibility  of  forming  clubs  for  the  employes  in 
the  large  business  houses  in  the  centre  of  the  city, 
and  of  opening  a  home  of  rest  for  the  tired  mothers 
of  Hulme,  by  the  seashore  at  Deganwy.  One  of 
the  Sisters  of  the  Mission  who  was  with  him  for 
a  fortnight  after  his  return  from  Australia  says 
that  he  was  always  more  eager  to  talk  about  the 
work  than  about  his  journey.  Whatever  subject 
of  conversation  was  started,  he  always  came  back, 


92 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


sooner  or  later,  to  the  same  point — the  Mission, 
the  Mission  :  what  could  they  do  that  they  were 
not  doing  ?  what  could  they  do  better  that  they 
were  doing  already  ? 

At  the  first  Mission  Anniversary  meeting  after 
Collier’s  death,  the  Rev.  Henry  Howard,  of  Aus¬ 
tralia,  narrated  a  little  incident  which,  trifling  as 
it  may  be,  shows  how  wherever  he  went  the  Mission 
was  always  on  his  heart.  4  Just  twelve  months 
ago,’  Mr.  Howard  said, 4  we  were  waiting  in  Adelaide 
to  receive  the  Rev.  Samuel  F.  Collier,  the  repre¬ 
sentative  of  British  Methodism.  I  knew  how  tired 
he  would  be,  and  what  a  great  crowd  was  waiting 
for  him,  so  I  got  the  Commissioners  of  the  railway 
to  flag  the  train  twenty  miles  down  the  line,  for  I 
thought  he  would  like  to  meet  first  some  one  whom 
he  knew.  I  got  on  to  the  train  and  looked  down  the 
corridor.  There  stood  Collier  looking  through  the 
window.  Suddenly  he  turned  and  saw  me.  He 
began  with  no  greeting ;  this  was  what  he  said  : 
“  Lloward,  my  Anniversary ;  second  Sunday  in 
November  1921,  morning,  afternoon,  and  night; 
Tuesday,  Free  Trade  Flail  public  meeting  in  the 
evening.”  44  All  right,  old  man,”  I  said,  “  that ’s 
all  right.”  44  And  now,”  he  said,  “  how  are  you  ?  ”  ’ 
4  You  see,’  Mr.  Howard  went  on,  4  this  Mission 
was  on  Collier’s  heart  and  mind  all  the  time  he 
was  in  Australia.  His  body  was  there,  but  his 
spirit  was  here.  He  carried  the  double  burden. 
And  that  was  what  killed  him — he  never  stood 
from  under ;  he  bore  the  burden  of  the  Mission 


THE  WORKER 


93 


through  all  the  trip  and  through  all  his  public 
appearances.’  1 

(3)  Perhaps  if  Collier  himself  had  been  asked  to 
explain  his  success  as  a  worker,  he  would  have  said 
that  it  all  lay  in  setting  others  to  work.  On  nothing 
did  he  insist  more  strongly.  4  Duplicate  yourselves, 
duplicate  yourselves,’  he  used  to  say  to  his  col¬ 
leagues.  4  It  is  possible,’  he  said  once,  4  that  the 
man  to  whom  you  give  a  piece  of  work  will  not  do 
it  as  well  as  you  would  have  done  it,  but  remember 
that  you  have  made  another  worker.’  There  was 
no  hope,  it  seemed  to  him,  of  the  Church  ever 
overtaking  the  vast  irreligion  of  the  world  except 
by  an  enormous  increase  of  voluntary  workers,  and 
he  would  have  had  every  circuit  in  Methodism 
organised  on  the  lines  of  work  for  each  member, 
definite,  chosen,  assigned.  Nor  was  it  merely  for 
the  sake  of  the  outside  world  that  he  preached  his 
gospel  of  work  ;  the  converts  themselves,  he  be¬ 
lieved,  needed  it  no  less.  What  led  to  the  starting 
of  the  theatre  services,  only  a  year  after  the  opening 
of  the  Central  Hall,2  was  not  only  the  lack  of  room 

1  Something  might  have  been  said  here  about  Collier’s  quickness  to 
profit  by  the  experience  of  others.  One  Sunday  evening,  several  years 
after  the  beginning  of  the  Manchester  Mission,  he  was  discovered,  not¬ 
withstanding  his  lay  attire,  in  a  North  of  England  congregation  where 
an  interesting  little  experiment  in  Christian  work  was  being  tried.  He 
admitted  that  he  was  there  to  spy  out  the  land,  and  to  see  if  there  was 
anything  in  the  new  method  that  he  could  either  adopt  or  adapt.  In 
the  same  way,  when  the  plans  for  the  Albert  Hall  were  taking  shape,  he 
picked  the  brains  of  all  the  Mission-hall  architects  whose  work  he  was 
able  to  visit  and  examine.  Indeed,  wherever  he  went,  his  eyes  were 
always  open,  pencil  and  pad  were  always  at  hand,  and  Manchester  was 
the  gainer. 

2  See  p.  48. 


94 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


for  the  overflowing  crowds,  it  was  lack  of  oppor¬ 
tunity  for  the  multiplying  converts.  4 1  have  been 
busy  for  the  devil,’  said  one  of  the  early  converts  ; 
4  if  I  am  to  go  straight,  I  must  have  something 
to  do  for  Jesus  Christ.’  There  was  no  resisting 
an  appeal  like  that,  and  Collier  set  himself  to  meet 
it  in  a  score  of  different  ways.  4  It  is  our  aim,’  he 
wrote,  in  one  of  his  earliest  Reports,  4  to  train  all 
young  converts  to  work.  Our  volunteers  find 
plenty  to  do,  according  to  their  gifts,  in  the  choirs, 
orchestras,  brass  bands,  open-air  singing  bands, 
button-holing  and  welcome  brigades,  pastoral  staff, 
district  visitation,  Sunday  schools,  bands  of  hope, 
lodging-house  and  cottage  meetings,  and  special 
mission  efforts,  etc.’  At  the  end  of  the  first  year 
he  said,  4  Our  staff  consists  of  the  minister,  three 
paid  missioners,  and  some  hundreds  of  voluntary 
workers.’  By  1904  the  4  hundreds  ’  had  grown  to 
two  thousand,  in  1913  it  stood  at  two  thousand 
five  hundred.  One  of  them,  whose  quaint  words 
Collier  often  used  to  quote,  speaking  for  multitudes 
in  the  Mission  besides  himself,  said  one  night  in 
the  weekly  class-meeting,  4 1  used  to  be  a  liability  ; 
now  I  am  an  asset.’ 1 

1  A  striking  collection  of  these  class-meeting  sayings  might  have  been 
made  if  only  there  had  been  some  Methodist  Boswell  at  hand  to  report 
them.  Here  is  one  with  a  touch  of  unconscious  splendour  in  it :  A  man 
whose  youth  and  early  manhood  had  been  spent  in  evil  ways,  and  who 
was  converted  through  the  instrumentality  of  the  Mission,  was  giving  his 
testimony  one  night.  He  had  met  an  old  drinking  pal  during  the  week 
who  had  chaffed  him  for  turning  pious  :  ‘  I  ’ll  tell  you  what  I  said  to 
him.  “  Bill,”  I  says,  “  you  know  what  I  am  ”  ’ — he  was  a  lamplighter — 
( “  when  I  goes  round  turning  out  the  lights,  I  looks  back,  and  all  the 


THE  WORKER 


95 


(4)  But  of  all  Collier’s  gifts  as  a  worker  the  thing 
in  him  at  which — if  for  the  moment  I  may  speak 
in  the  first  person — I  wondered  most,  which  re¬ 
buked  and  shamed  me  again  and  again,  was  his 
power  to  walk  and  not  faint.  I  used  to  link  him 
in  my  mind  with  George  Adam  Smith’s  interpreta¬ 
tion  of  the  great  prophetic  word.  To  mount  up 
with  eagles — that  is  much  ;  to  run  and  not  he  weary 
— that  is  more ;  but,  most  of  all  is  it  to  walk  and 
not  faint.  And  Collier  could  do  that.  Anybody 
can  get  up  a  4  sprint  ’  for  five  minutes  ;  he  could 
grind  along  the  dusty  road  for  a  day  and  still  not 
be  spent.  Professor  W.  Sellar,  it  is  said,  once 
remarked  to  Matthew  Arnold,  ‘  What  a  good  man 

-  is.’  4  Ah,’  sighed  Arnold  back  again,  4  we 

were  all  so  good  at  Rugby.’  4  Yes,’  retorted  Sellar, 
4  but  he  kept  it  up.’  And  this  is  the  thing  at  which 
we  marvel,  and  for  which  we  give  God  thanks,  in 
Collier  :  not  simply  that  he  loved  so  greatly  and 
planned  so  wisely,  but  that  he  4  kept  it  up,’  and 
kept  it  up  to  the  very  end.  He  had  learned  how 
to  plod  and  to  keep  his  passion  fresh.  The  bush 
burned  and  was  unconsumed.  Deissmann  has  a 
picturesque  phrase  in  which  he  contrasts  Paul  with 
Philo  :  4  Philo,’  he  says,  4  was  a  lighthouse,  Paul 
was  a  volcano  ’  ;  the  one  had  to  be  trimmed  and 

road  over  which  I  ’ve  been  walking  is  all  blackness,  and  that’s  what  my 
past  life  is  like.  1  looks  on  in  front  and  there’s  a  long  row  of  twinkling 
lights  to  guide  me,  and  that’s  what  the  future  is  since  I  found  Jesus.” 
“  Yes,”  says  my  friend,  “but  by  and  by  you  get  to  the  last  light  and 
turn  it  out,  and  where  are  you  then?”  “Then?"  says  I,  “why  when 
the  last  lamp  goes  out  it’s  the  dawn,  and  there  ain’t  no  need  for  lamps 
when  the  morning  comes.”’ 


96 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


kindled  by  his  teachers,  the  other  flared  with  inner 
fires.  In  Collier  the  inner  fires  never  seemed  to 
die  down.  He  had  the  c  calmly  fervent  zeal,’  the 
4  even  strong  desire  ’  of  which  Wesley  sings.  Some 
sputterings  of  the  holy  fire  there  are  in  us  all ;  in 
him  it  burned  through  all  the  years  with  a  fixed  and 
steady  glow.  ‘  Jackson,’  he  said  to  me  one  day 
in  a  characteristic  outburst,  4  the  trouble  with  so 
many  of  our  fellows  is  that  they  so  soon  lose  their 
44  fizz.”  ’  But  Collier  never  lost  his  4  fizz  ’  ;  he 
never  knew  the  4  uncourageous  elder  years  ’  1  which 
come  to  so  many  who  begin  life  with  high  and 
generous  hopes.  Wesley  could  remember  hearing 
his  father  say  to  his  mother  about  one  of  her 
children  whom  she  was  patiently  trying  to  teach, 
4  How  could  you  have  the  patience  to  tell  that 
blockhead  the  same  thing  twenty  times  over  ?  ’ 
4  Why,’  answered  Mrs.  Wesley,  4  if  I  had  told  him 
but  nineteen  times,  I  should  have  lost  all  my  labour.’ 
Collier  belonged  to  the  same  patient  school.  4  It ’s 
no  good  troubling,’  he  used  to  say,  4  if  you  don’t 
trouble  enough  ’  ;  and  the  maxim,  as  was  usually 
the  case  with  him,  had  his  own  practice  behind  it. 
In  his  first  year’s  work  at  Lever  Street,  he  called 
fifty-one  times  at  a  working-man’s  house  before 
he  persuaded  him  to  come  to  the  services.  Collier 
was  of  that  high  company  who  can  say,  Having 
received  this  ministry ,  we  faint  not — we  do  not  lose 
heart,  we  do  not  give  up,  we  faint  not :  that  is  all, 
and  how  much  it  is  ! 

1  The  phrase  is  used  by  Dowden  of  the  later  period  of  Wordsworth’s  life. 


CHAPTER  VI 
THE  CHIEF 

In  the  communications  which  have  reached  me 
from  those  who  at  one  time  or  other  have  served 
as  Collier’s  younger  colleagues  in  the  work  of  the 
Mission,  there  are  so  many  references  to  his  gifts 
of  leadership  that  room  must  be  found  for  a  chapter, 
however  brief,  on  4  The  Chief,’  as  they  in  their 
affectionate  loyalty  commonly  styled  him.  And 
I  cannot  begin  it  better  than  with  yet  another 
quotation  from  his  address  to  the  Pastoral  Session 
of  the  Conference  : — 

4  It  is  said  that  the  preachers’  weekly  meeting 
is  non-existent  in  many  circuits,  in  others  is 
merely  formal  or  a  friendly  chat  over  a  smoke, 
and  that  a  regular  meeting  of  the  preachers  in 
a  circuit,  for  prayer,  spiritual  fellowship,  earnest 
conversation  about  the  work  of  God,  and  mutual 
suggestion  how  best  to  carry  it  on,  is  becoming 
rare.  If  so,  surely  we  are  neglecting,  not  only 
what  is  a  great  privilege,  but  one  of  the  most 
important  factors  for  successful  work.  Many 
a  minister  has  been  saved  from  depression  and 
inspired  to  new  effort  at  such  meetings.  As  a 
young  minister  in  my  first  circuit  I  was  greatly 
impressed  the  first  week  I  met  my  superin¬ 
tendent  for  prayer,  fellowship,  and  consultation. 
In  the  commercial  world  no  partners  in  busi¬ 
ness  or  board  of  directors  would  neglect  or 


G 


98 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


undervalue  their  regular  meeting  for  detailed 
consultation.  Is  the  administration  of  a  circuit 
less  important  ?  We  shall  make  one  of  the 
biggest  blunders  if  we  allow  the  weekly  meeting 
of  colleagues  in  a  circuit  or  mission  to  die  out 
or  become  a  matter  of  form.’ 

This,  again,  is  the  word  of  experience.  Collier’s 
Tuesday  morning  meeting  with  his  staff  was  in 
some  ways  the  most  important  of  the  week.  It 
was  the  nerve-centre  of  the  whole  organisation  ; 
the  council  of  war,  in  which  the  commander-in¬ 
chief  and  his  generals  reviewed  both  their  victories 
and  their  defeats,  and  shaped  new  plans  of  campaign 
for  the  future.  Occasionally,  perhaps,  a  younger 
colleague  would  resent  the  inevitable  interference 
with  the  morning  hours  of  study,  but  on  this  point 
Collier  was  resolute ;  and  even  those  who  obeyed 
most  reluctantly  then  would  probably  admit  now 
that  he  was  right.  Nowhere  did  their  chief  show 
to  greater  advantage.  4  It  is  twenty-one  years,’ 
one  man  writes,  4  since  I  attended  the  last  staff 
meeting,  but  the  inspiration  is  with  me  still.  The 
insight  into  human  nature  those  weekly  meetings 
revealed  was  most  arresting.’  It  was  there  that 
Collier  let  fall  and  repeated  those  counsels  of  shrewd, 
practical  wisdom,  several  examples  of  which  have 
already  been  given.  Two  others  may  be  added. 
At  the  meeting  following  any  special  season — 
Christmas,  Whitsuntide,  or  the  Anniversary — the 
workers  were  all  asked  to  pool  their  experience  : 
what  had  they  done  which  next  time  they  could 


THE  CHIEF 


99 


do  better  ?  what  had  they  done  which  had  better 
not  have  been  done  at  all  ?  4  Don’t  just  think 

you  will  alter  this  or  that  next  time  ;  you  will 
forget  by  then  ;  make  a  note  of  it  now.’  Another 
of  his  sayings  which  must,  I  think,  have  been  a 
favourite  with  him,  has  reached  me  in  various  forms, 
but  each  with  the  true  Collier  hallmark  upon  it ; 
in  substance  it  was  this  :  4  If  you  have  a  disagreeable 
duty  to  perform,  begin  the  day  by  doing  it ;  don’t 
carry  that  burden  about  with  you  while  you  are 
busy  with  other  things.’ 

It  has  been  very  interesting  to  notice  how  many 
of  those  who  once  worked  by  Collier’s  side,  when 
they  sat  down  to  recall  their  own  memories  of  him, 
seemed  almost  instinctively  to  drop  into  metaphors 
drawn  from  the  world  of  generalship  and  strategy. 
He  had  a  touch,  and  more  than  a  touch,  of  the  true 
Napoleonic  quality.  He  could  take  in  a  difficult 
situation,  gauging  both  its  difficulties  and  its 
possibilities  with  the  eye  of  a  born  strategist.  He 
was  as  daring  as  he  was  cautious,  and  as  cautious 
as  he  was  daring.  He  never  shrank  from  a  difficult 
task,  but  he  was  too  good  a  general  to  throw  men 
away  on  a  hopeless  one.  As  we  have  seen,  he  knew 
the  importance  of  detail ;  nothing  seemed  to  escape 
him,  however  insignificant ;  but  he  never  let  him¬ 
self  be  buried  under  it.  He  stood  over  his  facts, 
handling  and  ordering  them  with  the  quick  eye  and 
sure  grasp  of  a  master.  Perhaps  the  best  evidence 
of  this  genius  for  generalship  is  to  be  found  in  the 
affectionate  and  enthusiastic  loyalty  of  those  who 


100 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


worked  with  him.  All  who  came  into  contact 
with  the  Mission,  even  though  only  as  occasional 
visitors,  noticed  and  were  impressed  by  it.  4 1 
have  never  seen  a  chief,’  one  layman  writes,  4  more 
beloved  of  his  staff  than  he  was  ’  ;  and  scores  of 
letters  which  I  have  been  privileged  to  read  bear 
witness  to  the  more  than  soldierlike  devotion  to 
him  of  his  humblest  fellow-worker.  How  was  it 
won  ?  One  who  was  not  a  colleague  can  only 
answer  the  question  very  inadequately  ;  he  must 
be  thankful  if  he  does  not  miss  the  road  altogether  ; 
but  some  things  may  be  said. 

It  is  quite  certain  that  the  affection  with  which 
Collier  was  regarded  was  due  to  no  want  of  firmness. 
I  hesitate  to  use  a  word  like  4  disciplinarian  ’  of 
him  ;  it  suggests  ideas  which  were  wholly  foreign 
to  his  nature ;  but  when  he  judged  it  necessary 
he  knew  how  to  assert  himself  unmistakably  ;  and 
woe  to  the  man  who  stood  in  his  path  !  One  who 
was  present  and  who  remembers  well  both  the 
incident  and  the  man  concerned  sends  me  the 
following :  4  The  members  of  the  Mission  Com¬ 
mittee  were  sitting  at  tea,  the  guests  of  one  of 
their  number,  when  the  conversation  turned  to  a 
burning  political  question  of  the  hour  on  which 
Collier  knew  that  those  present  were  sharply 
divided.  Very  quietly  he  said,  “  Better  let  the 
matter  alone.”  But  one  man  persisted  rather 
thoughtlessly  in  pressing  his  own  point  of  view. 
The  heavy  hand  of  “  the  chief”  was  on  him  in  a 
moment :  44  I  must  ask  you,  Mr. - ,  to  drop 


THE  CHIEF 


101 


the  subject  at  once  ;  not  another  word,  if  you 
please.  ’  ’  And  not  another  word  there  was.  ’  4  Collier, 5 
adds  my  correspondent,  with  the  glow  with  which 
he  always  recalls  his  old  chief’s  memory,  4  Collier 
was  a  king  amongst  men,  anywhere,  and  at 
all  times.’ 

The  sin,  I  think,  which  he  always  found  it  least 
easy  to  forgive  in  a  colleague  was  the  sin  of  slack¬ 
ness,  the  sin  of  4  the  unlit  lamp  and  the  ungirt  loin,’ 
as  Browning  calls  it.  I  remember  nothing  which 
stirred  him  so  deeply  as  the  thought  of  men  in  the 
ministry  who  took  their  work  lightly,  who  habitu¬ 
ally  did  less  than  their  best.  On  one  occasion  when 
he  was  interviewing  a  young  minister  who  seemed 
a  likely  man  for  a  vacancy  on  his  staff,  the  young 
man  expressed  his  fear  that  he  was  not  4  big  enough 
for  the  job.’  4  All  I  want,’  said  Collier,  4  is  a  man 
who  will  take  off  his  coat  and  work.  If  you  ’ll  do 
that,  I  ’ll  back  you  up  and  stand  by  you  to  the  end, 
even  though  you  make  mistakes.’  But  if  a  man 
did  not  take  his  coat  off,  if  he  was  disposed  to  lounge 
through  his  day  in  dressing-gown  and  slippers,  he 
soon  got  a  taste  of  that  4  ruthlessness  ’  of  which 
something  was  said  in  a  former  chapter.  When, 
as  of  course  sometimes  happened,  hard  work  and 
manifest  unfitness  went  together,  the  chief’s  duty 
was  as  plain  as  for  him  it  was  painful  and  difficult, 
and  those  who  knew  Collier’s  tender  heart  will  find 
it  easy  to  believe  that  laymen  on  his  Committee 
sometimes  thought  that  he  was  not  prompt  enough 
in  4  firing  out  the  fools,’  that  he  suffered  a  colleague’s 


102 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


diligence  to  hide  the  multitude  of  the  sins  of  his 
incompetence. 

But  at  least  this  reluctance  is  sufficient  to  show 
that,  strict  even  to  sternness  as  was  his  sense  of 
ministerial  duty,  there  was  nothing  in  Collier  of 
the  mere  drill-sergeant  and  martinet.  Like 
Abraham  Lincoln  he  knew  how  to  ease  the  tension 
of  work  with  a  jest,  and  to  find  relief  for  over¬ 
wrought  nerves  in  a  good  story.  Those  who  have 
seen  Mr.  Drinkwater’s  famous  play,  or  have  read 
Lord  Charnwood’s  biography  of  the  great  American 
leader,  will  remember  how  sometimes,  at  the  very 
height  of  a  crisis,  he  would  turn  for  relief  to  the 
quaint  drolleries  of  Artemus  Ward,  the  author  who 
almost  vied  with  Shakespeare  in  his  affections,  and 
how  on  one  occasion  he  even  held  up  the  business 
of  his  Cabinet,  while  he  amused  himself  and  them 
with  a  reading  from  A.  W.’s  latest  book.  Collier 
had  the  same  happy  art,  as  a  reminiscence  of  one 
of  his  lady  clerical  secretaries  will  show  :  It  was 
the  eve  of  the  Mission  Anniversary,  and  both  of 
them  had  been  driven  and  harassed  to  their  wits’ 
end.  Collier  went  home  about  tea-time,  and  the 
secretary  settled  down  to  get  letters  typed  ready 
for  signature  on  his  return  later.  ‘  I  really  felt,’ 
she  says,  ‘  things  were  getting  on  top  of  me,  and 
when  the  ’phone  went,  and  I  was  told  “  the  Super 
wants  to  speak  to  you,”  I  seized  my  notebook  in 
desperation  expecting  to  hear,  “  Just  take  this 
down,  will  you  ?  ”  Instead,  the  familiar  voice 
came  through,  “  I  say,  would  you  rather  be  a  dog 


THE  CHIEF 


103 


— an  ordinary  dog,  I  mean — or  a  dog  with  a  broken 
tail  ?  ”  44  Why,  an  ordinary  dog,  I  suppose.” 

44  Well,  I  wouldn’t,”  was  the  quick  retort ;  “an 
ordinary  dog  has  his  day,  but  a  dog  with  a  broken 
tail  has  a  week-end  !  ”  Then  followed  a  character¬ 
istically  infectious  guffaw,  and  before  I  could  say 
a  word  more  he  had  rung  off.  But  I  went  back  to 
the  letters  with  a  laugh  on  my  lips,  and  the  work 
went  merrily  to  the  end.’ 

Another  of  Collier’s  qualities  as  leader  is  revealed 
in  a  conversation  with  his  friend,  Gipsy  Smith. 
‘  Why  are  you  so  anxious,’  said  the  Gipsy,  4  to  pull 
in  this  man  and  that  and  the  other  ?  Why  do  you 
not  take  the  place  yourself  ?  ’  4  Gipsy,’  said  Collier, 

4  I  am  out  for  the  kingdom  ;  it  is  the  kingdom 
that  matters  to  me,  and  the  moment  I  find  a  man 
who  is  a  quarter  of  an  inch  bigger  than  I  am,  and 
can  do  the  work  better  than  I  can,  I  am  ready  to 
get  him  his  crowd,  to  hold  his  coat  and  back  him, 
while  he  does  it.’  4  No  self-seeking  there,’  said  the 
Gipsy,  when  he  reported  the  conversation  to  me. 
And  he  was  right ;  Collier  was  above  that  littleness. 
But  there  is  more  in  the  words  than  unselfishness  : 
it  is  the  instinct  of  the  true  leader  that  speaks  in 
them.  Is  it  not  always  one  of  the  marks  of  leader¬ 
ship  that  it  knows  when  and  to  whom  to  delegate  ? 
And,  on  the  other  hand,  is  there  anything  that  so 
surely  reveals  a  man’s  unfitness  to  lead  as  the  petty 
vanity  that  insists  on  keeping  everything  in  its 
own  hands  ?  Few  men,  I  think,  have  understood 
that  better  than  Collier  did.  4  What  is  the  first 


104 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


condition  of  leadership  ?  ’  he  once  asked  his  old 
friend,  Samuel  Chadwick.  ‘Well  ?  5  said  Chad¬ 
wick,  knowing  his  friend’s  way,  and  that  he  had 
got  his  own  answer  ready  when  he  put  the  question, 
‘  Well  ?  ’  4  Self-effacement,  ’  replied  Collier  em¬ 

phatically.  4  Some  men,’  he  went  on,  4  are  so 
possessed  with  the  sense  of  their  own  importance 
that  they  never  give  others  their  opportunity,  and 
so  never  make  leaders.’  But  Collier  always  put 
his  men  on  their  own  responsibility,  urging  and 
encouraging  them  to  develop  on  their  own  lines. 
As  one  of  them  put  it,  he  directed  but  he  did  not 
dominate  them.  Nobody,  I  imagine,  ever  heard 
him  talk  psychology  after  the  fashion  of  to-day, 
but  he  was  for  all  that  a  practical  psychologist : 
he  studied  men  and  women  ;  he  noted  their  limita¬ 
tions  as  well  as  their  strength  ;  he  tried  to  discover 
their  natural  bent,  and  then  set  them  free  to  follow 
it.  Young  ministers  who  joined  his  staff,  sometimes 
with  only  a  year  or  two’s  experience  behind  them, 
were  amazed  again  and  again  at  the  lavish  con¬ 
fidence  he  reposed  in  them.  4  If,’  he  said  to  one 
of  them  at  their  very  first  interview — 4  if  you  have 
any  new  ideas,  don’t  hesitate  to  suggest  them  ; 
there  are  many  things  we  have  not  yet  discovered.’ 

This  respect  for  other  men’s  personality  was 
native  to  Collier  and  showed  itself  in  minor  matters 
as  well  as  greater.  One  illustration  of  it  which  left 
a  very  deep  impression  on  the  mind  of  the  colleague 
concerned  may  be  mentioned.  When  he  returned 
from  Australia  he  had  made  up  his  mind  that  the 


THE  CHIEF 


105 


immediate  responsibility  for  the  Albert  Hall  Church 
and  congregation,  which  he  himself  had  borne  for 
so  long,  must  be  placed  in  the  hands  of  another, 
the  Rev.  H.  G.  Fiddick.  Shortly  after  the  transfer 
had  been  made — in  May  1921 — a  service  for  the 
recognition  of  new  members  was  held  at  the  Hall. 
It  had  been  arranged  so  that  Collier  himself  could 
be  present,  his  colleague  naturally  feeling  that  it 
was  fitting  that  the  new  members  should  be  re¬ 
ceived  by  him.  He  came,  but  he  refused  absolutely 
to  take  Mr.  Fiddick’s  place ;  he  told  the  congrega¬ 
tion  himself  that  he  would  join  with  them  in  the 
service,  but  that  it  was  for  their  own  minister  to 
give  to  the  new  members  the  right  hand  of  fellow¬ 
ship.  In  less  than  a  month  he  was  in  his  grave  ; 
but  the  impression  made  by  his  humility  and  self- 
effacement  remains  with  his  young  colleague  a 
possession  for  ever. 

This  large  confidence  in  others  was  a  policy  not 
without  its  risks  ;  but  magnanimity  can  afford  to 
take  risks,  and  Collier  faced  them  without  fear. 
When  he  said,  in  words  which  have  been  already 
quoted,  4  Take  off  your  coat  and  I  will  stand  by 

V 

you  even  though  you  make  mistakes,’  he  was  not 
talking  idly.  Sincerity  and  hard  work  could  always 
count  on  him,  even  when  he  did  not  agree  with  all 
they  said  and  did.  For  example,  he  had  at  one 
time  a  colleague  with  strong  socialist  sympathies 
who  was  in  charge  of  a  large  Brotherhood.  The 
meetings  were  often  reported  in  one  of  the  local 
papers,  which  did  nothing,  we  may  be  sure,  to  tone 


106 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


down  the  4  red  ’  in  the  missioner’s  socialism.  Some 
of  the  Mission’s  supporters  grew  alarmed,  and 
wrote  angry  letters  of  protest  to  the  superintendent, 
threatening  to  withdraw  their  subscriptions,  and 
so  on.  Collier  managed  to  quiet  their  fears,  but 
said  nothing  to  his  colleague  until  the  latter,  hearing 
incidentally  what  had  happened,  expressed  to  his 
chief  his  regret  for  the  worry  he  had  caused  him. 
He  only  said,  4  I  have  bigger  troubles  than  that, 
my  lad  ;  you  go  on  saying  and  doing  what  you  are 
convinced  is  right.  I  have  written  my  corre¬ 
spondents  and  satisfied  them  that  they  have  no 
need  to  be  anxious.’ 

Generosity  like  this,  it  hardly  needs  to  be  said, 
rarely  failed  to  win  an  answering  loyalty.  It 
awoke  in  men  powers  whose  very  existence  they 
themselves  had  scarce  suspected.  It  was  a  daily 
challenge  to  them  to  do  and  to  give  of  their  best. 
4  I  always  felt,’  one  man  writes,  4  he  saw  and  ex¬ 
pected  something  bigger  in  myself  than  I  ever 
dreamed  could  be  possible.’  4  His  extraordinary 
faith  in  us,’  says  another,  4  we  felt  we  simply  had 
to  justify.’  4 1  would  have  done  anything,’  says 
yet  another,  4  rather  than  let  him  down.’  Nowhere 
are  we  nearer  the  secret  of  the  success  of  the  Man¬ 
chester  Mission  than  in  simple,  heartfelt  words 
like  these.  When  through  all  ranks  of  his  army 
a  general  can  kindle  and  spread  so  great  a  fire  of 
devotion,  he  has  already  more  than  half  won  his 
battle. 


CHAPTER  VII 
THE  PREACHER 

This  book  is  throughout  the  story  of  a  preacher’s 
life  and  work ;  but  this  chapter  on  Collier  4  the 
Preacher  ’  will  not  be  a  long  one.  Some  may  even 
think  that,  short  as  it  is,  it  might  have  been  omitted 
altogether.  ‘  Collier  is  no  preacher,’  men  used  to 
say,  who  had  none  but  the  kindliest  feelings  about 
him  or  his  work ;  and  it  was  quite  commonly 
assumed  that  whatever  it  was  that  brought  the 
crowds  to  the  services  of  the  Mission,  it  was  cer¬ 
tainly  not  the  preaching.  And,  of  course,  nobody 
would  claim  that  Collier  was  in  any  sense  what  is 
called  a  4  great  ’  preacher.  Representatives  of  the 
Press — even  of  the  religious  Press — though  they 
often  sought  him  out  to  learn  about  the  social  work 
of  the  Mission,  did  not  go  to  find  4  good  copy  ’  in 
his  sermons.  His  preaching  was  indeed  often 
commonplace  in  matter,  and,  as  one  of  his  best 
friends  once  said,  4  appallingly  casual  ’  in  manner. 
How  could  it  be  otherwise  when  we  remember 
how  little  time  his  crowded  days  and  nights  left 
him  for  pulpit  preparation  ?  He  told  his  friend 
Gipsy  Smith  that  on  one  occasion  it  was  four 
o’clock  on  Sunday  afternoon  before  he  got  his  first 
chance  to  look  at  his  text  for  his  evening  sermon 

107 


108 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


in  the  Free  Trade  Hall ;  and,  he  said,  4  when  I 
sat  down  at  my  desk  I  felt  so  absolutely  worn  out 
that  before  I  knew  what  I  was  doing  I  was  asleep, 
and  I  slept  soundly  till  five  o’clock.  But  I  had 
my  sermon.’  4  Of  course  you  had,’  said  the  Gipsy, 
4  the  Lord  would  rather  let  the  sky  fall  than  not 
give  you  a  sermon  after  such  a  week’s  work.’ 

Nevertheless,  the  fact  remains  that  on  nearly 
every  Sunday  for  twenty-one  years  Collier  preached 
in  the  Free  Trade  Hall  to  the  largest  Methodist 
congregation  in  the  world.  One  recalls  Abraham 
Lincoln’s  famous  saying,  that  you  may  fool  all  the 
people  some  of  the  time,  and  some  of  the  people 
all  the  time,  but  you  can’t  fool  all  the  people  all 
the  time.  And  when,  not  merely  for  the  few  short 
weeks  of  a  4  Special  Mission,’  but  year  after  year, 
through  a  whole  generation,  a  man  gathers  and 
holds  crowds  such  as  those  that  regularly  waited 
on  Collier’s  ministry,  it  simply  will  not  do  to  say 
that  he  was  4  no  preacher.’  His  successor,  the 
Rev.  Herbert  Cooper,  who  took  up  the  burden 
when  it  fell  from  his  dead  chief’s  shoulders,  says 
that  what  amazes  him  most  as  he  looks  back  is 
the  way  in  which  all  through  the  strenuous  years 
he  managed  to  find  week  by  week  a  word  in  season 
for  his  great  congregation.  What  was  the  secret 
of  his  power  ? 

Much  and  very  much  is,  undoubtedly,  to  be 
attributed  to  causes  which  lay  outside  the  sermon 
itself.  The  great  Free  Trade  Hall  is  always  a 
popular  meeting-place  with  Manchester  folk.  Hymn 


THE  PREACHER 


109 


sheets  were  provided,  and  of  course  all  sittings  were 
free  and  unappropriated.  The  type  of  service, 
too — reverent  but  never  stiff  and  formal,  with  a 
certain  unbuttoned  ease  and  infectious  gladness 
about  it — appealed  to  multitudes  who  found  little 
to  attract  them  in  the  ordinary  routine  of  the 
Church’s  worship.  And  in  addition  to  all  this, 
Collier,  like  the  wise  general  that  he  always  was, 
had  his  trusty  scouts  posted  at  strategic  points 
all  over  the  great  building,  whose  business  it  was 
to  look  out  for  the  stranger,  to  make  him  feel  that 
he  was  not  only  welcome  but  wanted,  and  in  a 
hundred  ways  to  seek  to  create  the  atmosphere  in 
which  it  is  easy  alike  to  speak  and  to  hear.  But 
things  like  these,  though  they  may  explain  much, 
do  not  explain  everything ;  they  may  tell  us  why 
the  crowd  came,  they  do  not  tell  why  it  kept  on 
coming ;  nor  is  there  any  explanation  short  of 
the  power  of  the  preacher  himself.  Yet  when  we 
try  to  analyse  and  define  that  power  we  do  not 
get  very  far.  Collier  published  no  sermons,  and 
he  has  left,  so  far  as  can  be  discovered,  only  five 
in  manuscript,  all  of  them  written  during  his  early 
years  and  long  before  the  beginning  of  his  work  in 
Manchester.  One  of  them,  which  exists  in  duplicate, 
is  the  sermon  which  he  preached  as  a  student  at 
the  usual  week  evening  service  in  the  College 
Chapel,  Didsbury.  I  turned  to  it  with  no  little 
interest  to  find  in  it,  if  I  could,  some  hint  of  his 
coming  power  ;  but  quite  in  vain.  It  is  just  such 
a  sermon  as  is  written  every  year  by  hundreds  of 


110 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


young  preachers  :  very  orthodox,  very  decorous, 
and,  it  must  be  added,  very  dull.  There  are  no 
quotations  except  from  the  Bible,  and  no  illustra¬ 
tions  to  relieve  the  general  grey  ness.  The  subject 
is  ‘  Spiritual  Relationship  to  Christ,’  and  the  text, 
Whosoever  shall  do  the  will  of  My  Father  which  is 
in  heaven ,  the  same  is  My  brother  and  sister  and 
mother.  The  divisions  of  the  sermon — Spiritual 
Relationship  :  (1)  What  it  is  not ;  (2)  What  it  is — 
show  the  influence  of  a  safe  and  familiar  model, 
but  it  is  easy  to  see  that  the  preacher  has  not  yet 
found  himself ;  the  voice  is  only  an  echo  ;  it  is 
saying  the  correct  rather  than  the  vital  thing. 
The  living  presence  of  the  speaker  may  have  been 
able  to  blow  the  ashes  into  a  flame,  but  the  last 
glint  of  fire  has  faded  from  them  now.  I  am  at 
the  further  disadvantage  in  writing  of  Collier  as  a 
preacher  that,  though  I  heard  him  speak  on  many 
different  occasions,  I  never  heard  him  preach. 
In  what  follows,  therefore,  I  am  compelled  to  lean 
on  my  general  knowledge  of  the  man  himself,  and 
on  what  I  have  been  able  to  learn  from  others. 
If  it  does  not  satisfy  those  who  owe  him  their  own 
souls,  it  will  at  least,  I  hope,  do  him  no  injustice. 

On  one  point,  happily,  it  is  possible  to  speak  with 
emphasis.  Collier’s  popularity  as  a  preacher  owed 
nothing  to  a  vulgar  and  strident  sensationalism. 
As  these  pages  show,  he  broke  fearlessly  with  many 
ancient  conventions  for  the  sake  of  the  suffering 
souls  and  bodies  of  men ;  but  his  daring  was 
always  well  in  hand,  always  obedient  to  a  certain 
sober  self-restraint  which  never  forsook  him  and 


THE  PREACHER 


111 


was,  indeed,  one  of  his  most  marked  characteristics. 
And  nowhere  did  this  show  itself  more  clearly  than 
in  his  arrangement  and  conduct  of  the  Sunday 
services  of  the  Mission.  Nor  was  he  really  as 
4  casual  ’  in  his  pulpit  work  as  he  often  appeared. 
With  no  time  for  scholarship  himself,  he  was 
always  ready  to  make  use  of  what  the  scholar 
could  put  at  his  service.  4  If,’  he  said  to  a  col¬ 
league  once,  4  I  can  hammer  out  a  text  in  the 
Greek  and  get  at  its  general  meaning,  I  am  satisfied 
now,  and  plunge  into  the  subject  I  want  to  get  at.’ 
Nor  was  it  only  scholars  whom  he  laid  under  con¬ 
tribution.  He  foraged  in  many  fields  and  rarely 
returned  home  empty-handed.  Pencil  and  pad 
were  always  at  hand  to  jot  down  incidents,  quota¬ 
tions,  anecdotes — anything  with  which  he  might 
feather  his  arrow  when  Sunday  came  round. 

One  of  the  first  elements  of  Collier’s  success  as 
a  preacher  was  the  relation  in  which  he  and  his 
huge  congregation  stood  to  each  other.  He  had  a 
genius  for  establishing  at  once  easy  and  intimate 
relations  with  men,  and  he  carried  it  with  him 
into  the  pulpit.  The  crowd  and  he  were  together 
straightway — 4  in  touch,’  as  they  say  in  the  army. 
4  Thy  soul  was  like  a  star,  and  dwelt  apart  ’ — 
there  was  none  of  that  feeling  towards  him.  People 
remembered  the  open  door  at  the  Central  Hall — 
that  door  without  a  latch,  which  swung  easily  on 
its  own  hinges — and  it  seemed  to  them  an  emblem 
of  the  man  who  was  their  minister.  There  were 
no  great  airs  about  him  which  frightened  them  : 
he  was  homely,  accessible,  a  fellow-traveller  4  on 


112 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


life’s  common  way.’  They  remembered,  too,  multi¬ 
tudes  of  them,  how  much  they  owed  him,  what 
duties  for  their  sakes  he  had  laid  upon  his  heart, 
with  what  ceaseless  toil  he  had  spent  himself  for 
them  and  for  theirs.  And  when  he  preached,  that 
was  the  background  from  which  he  spoke ;  that 
was  the  sounding  board  which  flung  out  even  his 
most  halting  and  commonplace  words.  Was  it 
any  wonder  that  they  heard  him  gladly  ?  ‘  His 

word  thunders  whose  life  lightens.’  But  the  casual 
visitor — the  man  who  sometimes  went  away  saying, 
4  Collier ’s  no  preacher  ’ — easily  missed  all  this. 
For  him  the  background  and  the  sounding  board 
were  not  there.  He  might  know  in  a  general 
kind  of  way  something  of  what  was  going  on, 
but  it  did  not  mean  to  him  what  it  meant  to  the 
men  and  women  in  Collier’s  congregation.  For 
a  similar  reason  Collier  was  often  comparatively 
ineffective  and  disappointing  when  he  preached 
away  from  home.  He  needed  his  own  people  to 
bring  out  the  best  that  was  in  him.  And  to  their 
and  his  credit  alike  be  it  said,  for  the  most  part 
they  preferred  him  to  the  4  star  ’  preachers  who 
occasionally  took  his  place.  4  Yes,  very  good,’ 
they  would  say  when  the  great  man  had  gone  his 
way,  4  but  we  ’d  rather  have  our  own  man.’  4  Give 
me  Mr.  Collier  ;  we  understand  him.’ 

There  were  certain  obvious  qualities  in  Collier’s 
preaching  which  it  may  be  well  to  set  down  in  a 
paragraph  or  two.  They  were  all  of  the  service¬ 
able  rather  than  of  the  showy  order ;  they  did  not 


THE  PREACHER 


113 


dazzle,  they  warmed  ;  and  what  is  most  important 
in  a  long  ministry  like  his,  they  wore  well.  Mr. 
Frank  T.  Bullen,  the  well-known  writer  of  sea 
stories,  wrote  after  attending  an  evening  service 
in  the  Free  Trade  Hall :  ‘  I  heard  a  plain,  simple 
Gospel  address  on  the  text,  No  man  careth  for  my 
soul.  None  of  the  arts  of  the  practised  orator  were 
employed,  none  of  that  flamboyant  extravagance 
of  language  which  make  some  popular  preachers 
such  a  draw,  and  in  the  eyes  of  Christian  folk 
such  a  failure,  but  the  homely,  straight,  sensible 
talk,  such  as  C.  H.  Spurgeon  used  to  favour  us 
with  in  old  Tabernacle  days.  And,  listening  to 
him,  I  could  understand  how  such  quiet,  reasonable 
exhortation  had  still  the  power,  despite  modern 
dicta  upon  the  foolishness  of  preaching,  to  fill  this 
great  place  with  eager  listeners  all  the  year  round.’ 

4  Mr.  Collier,’  said  another  visitor — ‘  H.  K.’  of  the 
Methodist  Recorder  (the  late  Nehemiah  Curnock) 
— ‘  has  a  good  presence,  a  kindly  face,  a  clear, 
resounding  voice,  and  no  mannerisms.  The  uni¬ 
versal  testimony  is  that  his  preaching  is  always 
fresh  and  practical,  and  there  is  in  it  a  trumpet 
note  of  hope  and  joy.’ 

Homely,  straight,  sensible,  practical — these  are 
all  right  adjectives  by  which  to  describe  Collier’s 
preaching.  His  speech  was 

*  rife 

With  rugged  maxims  hewn  from  life.’ 

Sayings,  incidents,  anecdotes  he  made  use  of  freely  ; 
but  he  never  went  far  to  seek  them  ;  he  chose  by 

H 


114 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


preference  those  of  a  homely,  familiar  type.  He 
took  the  common  stones  that  lie  about  at  all  men’s 
feet,  and  built  with  them  ;  to  adorn  what  he  built 
he  had  neither  wit  nor  will.  If  he  could  make  his 
meaning  clear  and  get  his  point  home,  that  was  all 
he  sought  and  all  he  cared  for.  Clean  and  sparkling 
water  in  a  common  tumbler — such  was  Collier’s 
preaching.  Nor  was  the  water  less  refreshing  for 
the  homely  vessel  that  held  it.  On  the  contrary, 
the  preaching  told  by  its  sagacity  and  simplicity, 
by  the  way  in  which  it  came  4  home  to  men’s 
business  and  bosoms.’  A  member  of  his  congrega¬ 
tion  has  told  me  with  what  impressiveness  she  once 
heard  him  urge  upon  foremen  their  responsibility 
for  keeping  clean  and  wholesome  the  speech  and 
atmosphere  of  their  workshops,  for  the  sake  of 
the  boys  and  girls  who  were  coming  into  them 
straight  from  home  and  school.  4  The  most 
common-sense  preacher  I  ever  heard  ’  was  the 
verdict  of  an  old  Scottish  tutor  who  resided  in 
Manchester  and  who  sometimes  found  his  way 
to  the  services  of  the  Mission. 

But  once  more,  all  this,  true  as  it  is,  leaves  much 
still  untold.  There  must  have  been  something 
in  the  preacher  beyond  these  obvious,  homespun 
qualities  to  draw  and  hold  the  multitudes  through 
so  many  years.  As  I  have  said  before,  Collier  was 
always  and  in  everything  the  evangelist ;  but 
a  certain  spaciousness  of  outlook — his  natural 
4  healthy-mindedness,  ’  as  William  James  might 
have  called  it — saved  him  from  the  intellectual 


THE  PREACHER 


115 


pettiness  which  is  so  often  the  besetting  sin  of  the 
evangelist.  There  were  always  rooms  in  his  mind 
4  to  let,’  and  new  tenants  could  count  on  a  welcome. 
He  never  talked  as  if  he  feared  that  Christian 
scholarship  might  blunt  the  edge  of  his  sword  or 
snatch  it  out  of  his  hand.  He  knew  his  own  mind  ; 
he  had  a  firm  and  well-defined  faith ;  but  he 
flung  no  hard  words  about  against  those  whose 
thoughts  and  ways  were  not  his.  It  was  remarked 
once  by  a  Roman  Catholic  who  was  often  present 
at  his  services  that  she  never  heard  from  him  any 
denunciation  of  the  faith  of  her  fathers.  Dr.  Parkes 
Cadman,  of  Brooklyn,  puts  his  finger  on  this  catho¬ 
licity  of  temper  as  the  thing  which  marked  him  off 
from  4  rabid  and  emotional  men  in  America  who 
relate  evangelical  success  to  their  peculiar  type 
of  orthodoxy,  and  do  not  trouble  to  distinguish 
between  the  letter  and  the  spirit  of  the  life-giving 
word.’ 

Then  again,  Collier’s  preaching  was  always  meant 
to  do  something.  Think  what  you  might  about 
the  character  of  his  tools,  there  was  no  mistaking 
the  purpose  of  the  workman.  As  one  of  his  own 
people  once  said  about  a  Scottish  minister,  *  he 
was  aye  after  the  main  thing.’  ‘  To  the  Prophets,’ 
it  has  been  finely  said,  4  preaching  was  no  mere 
display,  but  a  sore  battle  with  the  hard  hearts  of 
their  contemporaries,  in  which  the  messenger  of 
the  Lord  worked  with  the  pity  of  his  weakness 
upon  him,  at  a  supreme  cost  to  himself  and  con¬ 
scious  that  he  must  summon  to  his  desperate  task 


116 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


every  resource  of  feeling  and  of  art.’  1  We  are 
ambassadors  on  behalf  of  Christ ,  as  though  God  were 
entreating  by  us  :  we  beseech  you  on  behalf  of  Christ , 
be  ye  reconciled  to  God — it  was  so  that  the  pleading 
voice  rang  on  week  after  week.  4  When  he  ap¬ 
peared,’  says  Dr.  Cadman,  ‘  I  felt  that  God’s 
advocate  had  arrived.’  In  the  absence  of  any 
sermon  manuscripts  I  do  not  think  I  can  do  better 
than  make  an  extract  from  Collier’s  sermon  register. 
It  will  at  least  serve  to  show  the  kind  of  subjects 
with  which  he  dealt.  The  selection,  which  is  made 
quite  at  random,  gives  the  texts  from  which  he 
preached  at  a  dozen  successive  Sunday  evening 
services  which  he  conducted  in  the  Free  Trade 
Hall  in  the  early  months  of  1909  : — 

4  Then  Samuel  took  a  stone,  and  set  it  between 
Mizpah  and  Shen,  and  called  the  name  of  it 
Ebenezer,  saying,  Hitherto  hath  the  Lord 
helped  us.’ — (1  Sam.  vii.  12.) 

4  Is  there  no  balm  in  Gilead  ?  Is  there  no 
physician  there  ?  ’ — (Jer.  viii.  22.) 

4  Unto  you  first  God,  having  raised  up  His 
Servant,  sent  Him  to  bless  you,  in  turning  every 
one  of  you  from  your  iniquities.’ — (Acts  iii.  26.) 

4  Abraham  Lincoln.’  2 * 

4 1  am  not  ashamed  of  the  gospel  :  for  it  is 
the  power  of  God  unto  salvation  to  every  one 
that  believeth.’ — (Rom.  i.  16.) 

4  Joseph  of  Arimathaea,  a  disciple  of  Jesus,  but 
secretly  for  fear  of  the  Jews.’ — (John  xix.  38.) 

1  G.  A.  Smith’s  Modem  Criticism  and  the  Preaching  of  the  Old  Testament, 
p.  231. 

2  Preached  ou  the  Sunday  following  the  centenary  of  Lincoln’s  birth, 

Feb.  9,  1909. 


THE  PREACHER 


117 


4  Holding  faith  and  a  good  conscience  ;  which 
some  having  thrust  from  them  made  shipwreck 
concerning  the  faith.’ — (1  Tim.  i.  19.) 

Passion  Week — Lantern  Service. 

4  Go  quickly,  and  tell  His  disciples,  He  is  risen 
from  the  dead  ;  and  lo,  He  goeth  before  you 
into  Galilee ;  there  shall  ye  see  Him.’ — (Matt, 
xxviii.  7.) 

‘  There  cometh  to  Him  a  leper,  beseeching 
Him,  and  kneeling  down  to  Him,  and  saying 
unto  Him,  If  Thou  wilt,  Thou  canst  make  me 
clean.’ — (Mark  i.  40.) 

4  In  all  these  things  we  are  more  than  con¬ 
querors  through  Him  that  loved  us.’ — (Rom. 
viii.  37.) 

4  It  is  expedient  for  you  that  I  go  away  :  for 
if  I  go  not  away,  the  Comforter  will  not  come 
unto  you ;  but  if  I  go,  I  will  send  Him  unto  you. 
And  He,  when  He  is  come,  will  convict  the  world 
in  respect  of  sin,  and  of  righteousness,  and  of 
judgment.’ — (John  xvi.  7,  8.) 

I  must  not  conclude  these  brief  notes  on  Collier 
the  Preacher  without  some  reference  to  an  incident 
which  occurred  at  the  very  outset  of  his  ministry, 
to  which  he  himself  referred  in  public  again  and 
again,  and  which  left  undoubtedly  a  very  deep  and 
abiding  impression  upon  his  whole  life.  It  is  best 
stated,  perhaps,  in  a  paragraph  which  appeared 
in  the  Methodist  Recorder  during  his  year  of  office 
as  President  of  the  Conference.  The  paragraph, 
which  was  written  with  Collier’s  knowledge  and 
approval  by  one  of  his  younger  colleagues,  is  as 
follows  : — 

4  Those  who  have  the  privilege  of  attending 


118 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


Mr.  Collier’s  services  during  his  great  tour  will 
discover  that,  in  almost  every  one  of  them,  at 
least  one  of  the  hymns  selected  will  have  refer¬ 
ence  to  the  Holy  Spirit.  For  many  years  this 
has  been  Mr.  Collier’s  custom,  and  he  was  led 
to  adopt  it  as  the  result  of  an  incident  which 
he  regards  as  one  of  the  most  significant  and 
influential  in  his  life.  On  the  first  Sunday  he 
spent  in  a  circuit,  after  leaving  College,  a  crowded 
congregation  faced  him  in  the  evening,  and 
many  remained  to  the  after-meeting.  But  the 
atmosphere  was  hard,  and  there  seemed  to  be 
no  response  to  his  appeal.  Just  at  that  juncture 
Mrs.  Brown,  the  wife  of  Mr.  Collier’s  super¬ 
intendent,  came  and  whispered  into  his  ear  : 
“Mr.  Collier,  do  you  think  we  are  sufficiently 
honouring  the  Holy  Ghost  ?  ”  The  young 
preacher  told  the  congregation  of  the  question 
put  to  him,  and  he  added  :  “We  have  not  had 
a  hymn  referring  to  the  Spirit  to-night,  nor 
has  any  one  mentioned  Him  in  prayer.  Let  us 
spend  a  few  moments  in  silent  meditation  on 
that  theme.”  They  did  so,  and  a  hymn  to 
the  Spirit  was  sung.  Almost  immediately  a 
mighty  wave  of  power  swept  the  meeting  ;  and 
there  were  many  wonderful  conversions.  Mr. 
Collier  regards  the  experience  as  a  lesson  and 
a  rebuke.’  1 

The  writer,  in  sending  the  paragraph  to  me,  adds : 
c  It  raises  difficulties  for  me  ;  and  I  believe  Mr. 
Collier  felt  these  also.  But  he  regarded  it  as  one 
of  the  most  vital  experiences  that  ever  came  to 
him,  and  he  acted  upon  it.’  Many  others,  probably, 


1  If  the  details  are  correctly  given  the  incident  must  have  occurred  in 
the  Brentford  Circuit,  and  therefore  at  the  beginning  of  Collier’s  second 
year  in  the  ministry.  (See  chap,  ii.) 


THE  PREACHER 


119 


will  be  conscious  of  the  4  difficulties  ’  of  which  my 
correspondent  speaks.  We  read  in  the  New 
Testament :  The  Father  hath  given  all  judgment  unto 
the  Son  ;  that  all  may  honour  the  Son ,  even  as  they 
honour  the  Father.  He  that  honoureth  not  the  Son 
honoureth  not  the  Father  which  sent  Him.  But  the 
New  Testament  writers  nowhere  speak  of  honouring 
the  Holy  Spirit ;  it  is  doubtful  indeed  if  they  would 
have  understood  what  was  meant  by  it.  Surely 
the  Spirit  is  honoured  wherever  and  whenever  Christ 
is  honoured,  and  to  speak  of  4  honouring  the  Holy 
Spirit 5  as  of  something  distinct  from  honouring 
Christ  is  to  come  perilously  near  the  edge  of  un¬ 
reality  ;  it  is  to  make  a  distinction  which  has 
neither  intellectual  validity  nor  religious  value. 
But  whatever  Collier  was,  he  was  not  unreal ; 
behind  his  language,  however  we  may  criticise  it, 
there  lay  a  really  vital  experience — his  sense  of  the 
Divine  presence  and  power  in  his  ministry  and  with 
his  word.  And  when  he  spoke  of  4  honouring  the 
Holy  Spirit,’  it  was  but  his  way  of  witnessing  to 
it ;  it  was  his  equivalent  of  the  prophetic  conscious¬ 
ness  in  the  strength  of  which  men  dared  to  say  of 
words  which  were  still  their  own  :  Thus  saith  the 
Lord. 

When  Moody — a  man  whom  Collier  in  many  ways 
resembled — paid  his  first  visit  to  Birmingham,  Dale 
was  one  of  those  who  were  equally  impressed  and 
perplexed  by  his  evident  power.  4  At  the  first 
meeting,’  he  wrote,  4  Mr.  Moody’s  address  was 
simple,  direct,  kindly,  and  hopeful ;  it  had  a 


120 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


touch  of  humour  and  a  touch  of  pathos  ;  it  was  lit 
up  with  a  story  or  two  that  filled  most  eyes  with 
tears  ;  but  there  was  nothing  in  it  very  remarkable. 
Yet  it  told.  ...  At  the  evening  meeting  the  same 
day,  at  Bingley  Hall,  I  was  still  unable  to  make  out 
how  it  was  that  he  had  done  so  much  in  other  parts 
of  the  kingdom.  I  listened  with  interest ;  every¬ 
body  listened  with  interest ;  and  I  was  conscious 
again  of  a  certain  warmth  and  brightness  which 
made  the  service  very  pleasant,  but  I  could  not  see 
that  there  was  much  to  impress  those  that  were 
careless  about  religious  duty.  The  next  morning 
at  the  prayer  meeting  the  address  was  more  incisive 
and  striking,  and  at  the  evening  service  I  began  to 
see  that  the  stranger  had  a  faculty  for  making  the 
elementary  truths  of  the  Gospel  intensely  clear  and 
vivid.  But  it  still  seemed  most  remarkable  that 
he  should  have  done  so  much,  and  I  told  Mr.  Moody 
that  the  work  was  most  plainly  of  God,  for  I  could 
see  no  real  relation  between  him  and  what  he  had 
done.  He  laughed  cheerily,  and  said  he  should  be 
very  sorry  if  it  were  otherwise.’  With  scarcely  a 
change  the  whole  passage  might  stand — and  this 
is  my  apology  for  quoting  it — as  a  pen-portrait  of 
Collier.  The  warmth  and  brightness  of  the  service  ; 
the  simplicity,  directness,  and  hopefulness  of  the 
speaker ;  the  touch  of  humour,  the  frequent 
anecdote  ;  the  obvious  interest  of  the  crowd — it 
is  all  here  as  there,  down  to  the  inevitable  ‘  there 
was  nothing  in  it  very  remarkable,’  and  the  re¬ 
peated  wonder  that  such  ordinary  means  should 


THE  PREACHER 


121 


achieve  such  extraordinary  results.  Nor  does  the 
parallel  fail  us  when  we  come  to  the  end  of  the 
passage  :  it  was  all  4  most  plainly  of  God.’  And 
in  saying  that  we  are  telling  everything,  and  we 
are  telling  nothing,  of  the  secret  of  Collier’s  power 
as  a  preacher. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  PHILANTHROPIST 


‘  Unto  the  poor 
Among  mankind  he  was  in  service  bound. 

As  by  some  tie  invisible,  oaths  professed 
To  a  religious  order.' 

( The  Prelude ,  Book  ix.). 

If  one  were  to  ask  any  chance  half-dozen  members 
of  the  religious  public  of  Manchester  for  what  the 
Manchester  Mission  stands,  the  very  variety  of 
the  answers  he  would  probably  receive  would  be 
in  itself  a  witness  to  the  many-sidedness  of  the 
Mission’s  activities.  To  one  it  suggests  the  sight 
of  a  vast  festive  throng  which,  at  the  November 
Anniversary,  crowds  the  Free  Trade  Hall  three 
times  in  one  day.  For  this  the  Methodist  tribes 
come  up  every  year  from  all  the  region  round 
about ;  and  for  some  this  is  their  sole  point  of 
contact  with  the  Mission  or  its  work.  For  others 
the  chief  point  of  interest  is  the  Tuesday  mid-day 
service  which,  except  for  a  few  weeks  in  the  height 
of  summer,  has  been  carried  on  without  a  break 
through  all  the  years  of  the  Mission’s  history.  To 
others  again — and  when  we  remember  that  the 
Mission  has  in  its  Sunday  schools  some  6000 
scholars  and  teachers,  and  5000  on  its  roll  of  church 
membership,  the  number  of  these  must  be  very 


THE  PHILANTHROPIST 


123 


large — the  Mission  is  their  religious  4  home.’  For 
many  of  them  life  is  bleak  and  lonely,  and  the 
Mission — perhaps  in  the  person  of  a  kindly  4  Sister  ’ 
— is  their  one  living  link  with  the  world  of  sym¬ 
pathy  and  fellowship  and  service.  Men  and  women 
who  have  their  own  comfortable  homes,  and  troops 
of  generous  friends  always  about  them,  may  not 
appreciate  what  this  means  ;  but  those  who  know 
from  experience  how  lonely  a  place  a  great  city 
can  be  will  not  need  to  be  told.  And  then,  over 
and  above  all  such,  there  are  those  who  have  lost 
even  such  slender  footing  as  they  had  on  the  lower 
rungs  of  the  social  ladder,  but  who  in  the  Homes 
or  Refuges  of  the  Mission  have  received  not  only 
4  charity,’  but  that  touch  of  human  kindness  for 
which  ignominy  always  thirsts.  It  is  of  Collier’s 
work  for  these  last — the  men  and  women  who  are 
the  shame  and  the  menace  of  our  Christian  civilisa¬ 
tion — that  something  will  be  said  in  this  chapter. 

In  that  noble  poem,  some  lines  of  which  are 
quoted  above,  Wordsworth  tells  us  how,  in  the  early 
days  of  the  French  Revolution,  he  and  his  friend 
Michel  Beaupuy 

‘ chanced 

One  day  to  meet  a  hunger-bitten  girl, 

Who  crept  along  fitting  her  languid  gait 
Unto  a  heifer’s  motion,  by  a  cord 
Tied  to  her  arm,  and  picking  thus  from  the  lane 
Its  sustenance,  while  the  girl  with  pallid  hands 
Was  busy  knitting  in  a  heartless  mood 
Of  solitude,  and  at  the  sight  my  friend 
In  agitation  said,  “  ’Tis  against  that 
That  we  are  fighting.”  ’ 


124 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


And  it  was  against  that ,  in  the  manifold  shapes  that 
it  can  assume  in  the  life  of  a  huge,  modern  industrial 
city,  that  Collier  fought — nor  did  his  sword  sleep 
in  his  hand — for  more  than  thirty  years.  Step  by 
step  he  felt  his  way  until  he  had  thought  out  and 
put  together  as  complete  a  bit  of  social  machinery 
as  could,  perhaps,  be  found  anywhere  in  Chris¬ 
tendom.  4  Collier,’  said  an  enthusiastic  writer  in 
the  Daily  Chronicle ,  ‘  is  a  Universal  Brotherhood 
Provider,’  and  his  Mission  4  a  Harrod’s  Stores  of 
religious  and  social  activities  ’  ;  4  there  is  nothing 
in  the  way  of  fraternity  you  cannot  procure  at 
his  depot,  from  a  clean  bed  to  a  new  life.’  How 
came  a  young  Methodist  preacher  to  make  work 
of  this  sort  4  church  ’  work  ?  to  embark  on  an 
adventure  which,  thirty  years  ago,  was  as  novel 
and  daring  as  it  was  difficult  ? 

At  the  outset  it  should  be  clearly  understood 
that  work  of  the  kind  represented,  say,  by  the 
Labour  Yard  and  the  Maternity  Home,  was  in 
no  sense  the  carrying  out  of  an  elaborate  programme 
which  some  clever  draughtsman  had  prepared  in 
advance.  Collier’s  mind  was  essentially  of  the 
soberly  practical  order ;  he  dreamed  his  dreams 
and  saw  his  visions,  but  his  feet  were  never  off  the 
solid  earth.  Startling  as  some  of  his  methods  may 
have  seemed  to  the  worshippers  of  the  great  goddess 
4  Ydgrun  ’ — as  Samuel  Butler  calls  her — there  was 
really  nothing  in  him  of  the  revolutionary.  On 
some  points,  indeed,  which  have  long  since  passed 
out  of  the  region  of  debate — such,  for  example,  as 


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125 


the  employment  of  a  paid  4  Sisterhood  ’ — he  had 
at  first  very  grave  misgivings ;  and  though  he 
fought  his  way  through  them,  he  remained  to  the 
end  by  instinct  a  conservative.  There  is,  perhaps, 
no  better  proof  of  this  than  what  happened  just 
before  the  Central  Hall  was  opened  in  1886.  The 
young  missioner  was  asked  for  his  programme. 
The  most  novel  items  in  it  were  these  :  free  seats 
for  all,  a  free  hand  in  advertising,  a  popular  Sunday 
afternoon  service,  a  Saturday  night  concert,  and  a 
brass  band — nothing  very  terrifying  there,  one 
would  have  thought,  even  to  the  4  Ydgrunites 5 
themselves.  The  social  work  of  the  Mission,  it 
will  be  noticed,  which  afterwards  became  so  con¬ 
spicuous,  is  here  conspicuous  only  by  its  absence. 
The  truth  is,  Collier  took  up  the  social  work  simply 
because  he  could  not  help  himself,  and  almost  in 
spite  of  himself.  He  was,  as  I  have  said,  essentially 
conservative  in  temperament,  just  as  Wesley  was  ; 
but,  happily,  as  in  Wesley,  so  in  him,  the  practical 
Dr.  Jekyll  could  at  any  time  get  the  better  of  the 
theorising  Mr.  Hyde.  If  this  and  that  were  neces¬ 
sary  in  order  to  the  salvation  of  men,  then  this 
and  that  must  be  done,  whatever  Mesdames  Use 
and  Wont  might  think  or  say.  I  repeat,  it  was 
no  pre- determined  theory  about  the  relation  of 
the  Church  to  our  modern  social  problems  which 
led  Collier  to  open  a  Men’s  Refuge  and  a  Women’s 
Shelter ;  these  things  were  forced  on  him  in  order 
that  he  might  do  the  work  of  an  evangelist.  A  few 
words  will  make  this  clear. 


126 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


What  first  opened  Collier’s  eyes  to  the  nature 
and  magnitude  of  the  problem  confronting  him 
was  those  midnight  walks  round  Lever  Street, 
during  his  early  days  in  Manchester,  to  which  I 
have  already  referred.1  Like  another  Nehemiah, 
before  calling  on  others  to  rise  up  and  build,  he 
arose  by  night  and  saw  for  himself  the  evil  case 
of  Jerusalem,  how  her  walls  were  broken  down, 
and  her  gates  burned  with  fire,  until  his  heart 
was  seared  by  the  shame  and  reproach  of  it  all. 
Then  came  the  opening  of  the  Central  Hall,  and 
the  immediate  success  of  the  work  there,  which 
lit  up  for  him,  as  by  a  lightning  flash,  vast  ruined 
areas  of  the  city’s  life  with  which  he  had  no  means 
to  cope.  The  miserable,  the  unfortunate,  the 
ne’er-do-weel  found  their  way  in  increasing  numbers 
to  the  services  of  the  Mission ;  and  these  were  the 
very  people  it  had  been  established  to  reach  and 
to  save  ;  but  its  success  was  its  perplexity  :  what 
could  it  do  for  them  now  that  it  had  got  them  ? 
how  could  it  save  them  now  that  it  had  reached 
them  ?  The  marches  of  the  Mission  bands  through 
the  streets,  at  midnight  on  Saturday,  and  again 
on  Sunday  afternoons,  brought  in  in  their  train 
squads  of  starving  and  homeless  men,  for  whom 
something  must  be  done  and  done  at  once.  Men 
who  had  read  the  New  Testament  could  not  be 
guilty  of  the  hypocrisy  of  offering  hymn  books  to 
the  hungry  ;  their  bodily  needs  must  somehow  be 
met,  if  services  and  sermons  were  to  have  any 

1  See  p.  42. 


THE  PHILANTHROPIST 


127 


chance  with  them.  But  this  was  only  the  thin 
end  of  the  difficulty.  Collier  insisted  that,  in 
order  to  do  its  proper  work,  the  Central  Hall  doors 
must  be  open  not  only  on  Sundays  and  in  the 
evenings,  but  every  day  and  all  day  long ;  1  and 
this  meant  before  long  an  unending  and  strangely 
mingled  stream  of  applicants :  the  professional 
4  cadger,’  of  course,  but  besides  him  men  and 
women  who  were  silly  rather  than  wicked ;  casual 
labourers,  honest  but  feckless,  and  the  first  to 
suffer  when  the  pinch  of  bad  times  comes  ;  ticket- 
of-leave  men,  whom  nobody  will  employ  ;  hard¬ 
working  women  with  little  children  and  a  sick 
husband ;  young  girls  in  trouble — forlorn  suitors 
all  of  them  in  Pity’s  wide  court. 

What  then  was  to  be  done  ?  It  was  no  use  for 
the  young  preacher  to  say,  4  Conference  sent  me  not 
to  feed  the  hungry,  but  to  preach  the  Gospel,  and 
to  save  the  souls  of  men  ’ ;  how  should  a  man  care 
about  either  his  4  soul  ’  or  its  4  salvation  ’  who  had 
nothing  to  eat  and  nowhere  to  sleep  ?  Collier  had 
deliberately  elected  to  make  the  Central  Hall  a 
place  where  the  worst  might  be  sure  of  a  welcome  ; 
he  had  taken  as  his  motto,  4  The  utmost  for  the 
lowest  ’ ;  he  had,  therefore,  either  to  deny  the 
first  article  of  his  creed  as  a  missioner,  or  face  the 
consequences,  whatever  they  might  be.  Of  course 
he  faced  them,  and  the  social  work  of  the  Mission 

1  The  doors,  Collier  noted  with  satisfaction,  were  swing  doors,  like  the 
doors  of  the  public-house.  No  publican,  he  said,  put  handles  on  his 
doors — the  customers  would  not  always  be  able  to  find  them  if  he  did  ! — 
and  the  doors  of  the  Central  Hall  must  be  as  easy  to  open. 


128 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


began.  The  first  steps,  naturally,  were  of  the 
simplest  kind.  Hungry  men  who  followed  the 
crowd  into  the  popular  Sunday  afternoon  service 
were  given  food  and  drink.1  Homeless  men  were 
supplied  with  a  ticket  of  admission  into  one  of  the 
city  lodging-houses.  To  meet  the  case  of  those 
who  were  willing  to  work  but  who  could  get  no 
work  to  do,  Collier  had  resort  to  all  manner  of  odd 
devices.  One  man  he  ‘  set  up  ’  as  a  hawker  of 
dripping  ;  for  another,  an  ex-schoolmaster,  he  hired 
a  wheelbarrow,  and  stocked  it  with  sweets.  He 
had  gone  into  business,  he  used  to  tell  his  friends, 
and  was  now  senior  partner  in  the  firm  of  ‘  Collier 

and - ,  Lozenge  Merchants.’  It  is  good  to  know 

that  the  4  firm  ’  prospered  at  least  to  this  extent, 
that  it  helped  the  junior  partner  back  to  his  teaching 
again.  But  all  this,  as  Collier  quickly  came  to  see, 
was  but  nibbling  at  the  fringe  of  his  problem. 
Gradually  it  was  forced  upon  him  that  just  where 
the  need  was  direst,  his  old  methods  were  useless, 
and  would  continue  to  be  useless  until  they  were 
supplemented  by  others  of  a  new  and  different  type. 
Already  the  attempt  to  provide  for  the  homeless 
in  the  lodging-houses  of  the  city  was  breaking  down 

1  One  of  Collier’s  many  good  stories  has  to  do  with  this  simple 
Sunday  afternoon  meal.  A  rough-looking  man  turned  up  at  his  office 
one  morning  :  ‘  1  've  come  to  bring  you  a  bob,  sir,’  he  said.  ‘  Well,’  said 
Collier,  f  I ’ve  no  objection  to  receiving  bobs,  but  1  like  to  know  what  they 
are  for.’  f Why,  it’s  this  way,’  said  the  man,  fI’ve  been  here  two 
Sundays  and  got  a  good  feed  each  time  as  put  new  heart  into  me.  1  ’d 
never  had  to  beg  before,  but  things  had  been  cruel  hard  and  I  was 
hungry.  Now  I ’ve  got  some  work,  and  thinks  1,  1  ’ni  going  to  give  a 
bob  out  of  it  to  help  some  other  poor  chap  that’s  in  the  same  hole  as 
I  was.’ 


THE  PHILANTHROPIST 


129 


in  his  hands.  What  the  men  who  drifted  into  the 
Central  Hall  most  needed — oversight,  restraint, 
sympathy — the  common  lodging-house  could  do 
nothing  to  supply.  There  was  only  one  thing  for 
it — the  Mission  must  have  a  4  Home  ’  of  its  own. 
Again  the  beginning  was  of  the  humblest  kind. 
An  old,  disused  rag  factory  in  Hood  Street,  Ancoats, 
was  cleared  and  cleaned  and  opened,  in  March  1891, 
as  a  Men’s  Home  and  Shelter. 

From  this  time  forward,  the  social  work  of  the 
Mission — to  make  a  distinction  which,  in  Collier’s 
mind  at  least,  was  never  more  than  verbal — went 
on  side  by  side  with  the  evangelistic.  For  some 
years  it  was  sadly  hampered  by  want  of  means  of 
every  kind ;  and  indeed,  as  yet,  Collier  himself 
hardly  knew  what  he  wanted.  The  work  was  new, 
and  the  worker  himself  had  everything  to  learn. 
Only  by  experiment  and  failure  could  he  find  out 
the  kind  of  equipment  which  was  best  fitted  for 
his  purpose.  Ten  years  later  he  had  learned  his 
lesson  ;  a  generous  public  which  had  watched  and 
approved  was  ready  with  the  money  ;  and  in  1901, 
amid  the  benedictions  of  the  city  fathers,  and  the 
goodwill  of  all  good  citizens,  a  new  Home  was 
erected  on  the  site  (enlarged)  of  the  old,  which  has 
again  and  again  been  described  as  one  of  the  most 
admirably  planned  and  completely  equipped  of 
its  kind  in  the  country. 

If  I  were  writing  a  report  and  not  a  biography, 
this  would  be  the  place  at  which  to  give  some 
account  both  of  the  building  itself  and  of  the  work 

i 


130 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


which  now  for  more  than  twenty  years  has  been 
carried  on  in  it.  As  it  is  I  shall  mention  only  one 
fact,  and  that  for  the  light  which  it  throws  on  the 
sanity  of  Collier’s  methods  in  the  field  of  social 
reform.  Like  all  other  workers  in  that  field,  he 
had  had  painful  experience  of  the  way  in  which 
the  State  has  succeeded  in  making  its  4  charity  ’ 
utterly  hateful  in  the  eyes  of  those  who  are  some¬ 
times  driven  to  accept  it.  For  example,  if  a  man 
sought  the  shelter  of  one  of  the  State’s  Casual  Wards, 
he  got  his  supper,  a  board  to  lie  on,  and  a  breakfast. 
Then,  in  the  morning,  he  had  to  pay  for  his  enter¬ 
tainment  by  spending  the  only  hours  of  the  day  in 
which  there  is  the  least  hope  of  finding  work  in 
picking  oakum  or  breaking  stones.  Collier’s  plan 
was  the  reverse  of  this.  Men  were  taken  into  the 
Home  in  the  early  afternoon,  and  set  to  work 
chopping  wood  and  making  up  bundles  by  which 
they  earned  supper,  bed  and  breakfast.  As  Collier 
said,  that  paid  him  because  he  got  the  work  before 
he  gave  the  meal ;  and  it  paid  the  man,  because 
then  he  was  free  to  start  early  in  the  morning  on 
his  search  for  a  job.  If  he  succeeded,  well  and  good  ; 
if  not,  he  could  return  again  in  the  afternoon  and 
earn  another  night’s  lodgings. 

Work  of  this  kind,  done  on  such  common-sense 
principles,  and  on  the  scale  which  the  new  premises 
now  made  possible,  were  certain  soon  to  attract 
attention,  and  in  1902  circumstances  combined  to 
give  it  something  like  a  national  advertisement. 
During  the  winter  of  that  year,  as  a  result  of  some 


THE  PHILANTHROPIST 


131 


proceedings  in  the  local  police  court,  the  Manchester 
public  was  startled  and  shocked  to  discover  that 
hundreds  of  homeless  men  were  sleeping  out  every 
night  in  the  brick-crofts  near  to  the  city,  while  the 
Casual  Ward  maintained  by  the  ratepayers  was 
three-fourths  empty.  For  nine  days  the  4  Sleeping- 
out  Scandal 5  was  the  talk  of  the  town,  and  the 
searchlight  of  the  investigator  was  turned,  not  only 
on  the  ways  of  Poor  Law  Guardians,  but  on  the 
various  philanthropic  organisations  of  the  city. 
Collier  and  his  helpers  could  have  asked  for  nothing 
better,  and  the  result  was  a  triumphant  vindication 
of  their  methods.  The  writer  of  an  article  on  4  The 
Vagrancy  Problem,’  which  appeared  in  the  Man¬ 
chester  Guardian,  singled  out  the  Hood  Street  Home 
as  4  a  model  of  efficiency.’  A  special  committee 
appointed  by  the  City  Council  to  inspect  the  Homes 
and  Shelters  of  the  city  paid  a  surprise  visit  at 
midnight,  and  had  nothing  but  commendation  for 
all  they  saw  and  heard  ;  4  the  Mission,’  they  said, 
4  was  teaching  the  Poor  Law  experts  how  to  deal 
with  the  vagrant.’  And,  finally,  the  Local  Govern¬ 
ment  Inspector  reported  that  in  his  judgment 4  both 
the  building  and  the  system  adopted  seem  admirably 
calculated  to  attain  the  objects  the  Mission  has  in 
view,  while  the  admirable  order  in  which  the  whole 
place  is  kept  is  worthy  of  all  praise.’ 1 

For  the  reason  already  given — that  this  book  is 


1  I  am  indebted  fox*  the  facts  of  this  paragraph  to  the  admirable  Report, 
written  in  1903,  by  the  Rev.  H.  M.  Nield,  who  was  for  six  years  one  of 
Collier's  colleagues. 


132 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


the  story  of  a  man,  not  of  a  movement — I  must 
pass  over  with  a  bare  word  of  mention  the  many 
other  social  agencies  which,  as  the  years  went  by, 
sprang  up  one  by  one  to  meet  some  newly-discovered 
need.  The  following  slightly  abridged  summary, 
which  I  take  from  the  twenty- seventh  Annual 
Report,  will  give  an  outline  which  the  reader  may 
fill  in  for  himself : — 

4  The  social  work  of  the  Mission  has  been 
carried  on  during  the  year  with  unabated  vigour 
and  with  marked  success.  The  need  for  such 
effort  was  never  more  apparent.  The  centres 
for  rescue,  relief,  and  preventive  work  are  well 
built  and  conveniently  situated.  The  head 
offices  are  at  the  Central  Buildings,  Oldham 
Street.  This  section  of  the  Mission  is  entirely 
unsectarian.  It  is  estimated  that  over  41,500 
persons  in  search  of  advice  and  help  have  availed 
themselves  of  the  “  open  door  ”  of  the  Mission 
during  the  past  twelve  months.  The  Homes 
and  Refuges  have  accommodation  for  450. 
Sunday  meals  for  the  destitute  were  provided 
last  year  for  27,560  men.  The  Maternity  Home 
and  Hospital  has  cared  for  a  large  number  of 
young  mothers.  The  employment  bureaux 
during  the  year  have  provided  permanent  and 
temporary  posts  for  workless  men  and  women. 
By  means  of  the  Fresh  Air  Fund  worn-out 
women  and  girls,  and  crippled  and  sick  children 
were  enabled  to  have  rest  and  change  during 
the  summer  months.  Work  amongst  discharged 
prisoners  has  been  carried  on  with  growing 
success.  Rescue  work  in  the  streets,  by  mid¬ 
night  missions,  visits  to  public-houses  late  at 
night,  and  other  special  efforts,  has  also  been 
undertaken  with  marked  results. 


THE  PHILANTHROPIST 


183 


4  Amongst  the  auxiliary  agencies  of  the  Mission 
must  be  mentioned  the  Cripples’  Guild,  with 
fortnightly  44  Parlours,”  weekly  industrial  classes 
and  holiday  arrangements.  The  homes  of  the 
cripples  are  visited  regularly  by  a  nurse,  and 
by  lady  visitors.  Workhouses,  hospitals,  cab¬ 
stands,  etc.,  are  regularly  visited  by  Mission 
workers.  The  Sunshine  Brigade,  Dorcas  Society, 
Benevolent  Society,  and  similar  agencies  are 
worked  by  volunteers,  and  care  specially  for  the 
lonely,  the  sick,  and  the  poor.’ 

There  was  one  item  in  the  week’s  work,  which  is 
not  included  in  the  foregoing  summary,  but  which 
had  its  place  in  Collier’s  programme  from  the  first, 
and  to  which  he  attached  the  utmost  importance  : 
I  mean  the  Saturday  night  concert.  I  give  a 
paragraph  to  it  here  because,  commonplace  as  the 
story  is  now,  it  is  throughout  so  typical  of  the 
man  and  his  methods.  Let  it  be  understood, 
then,  that  the  Saturday  night  meeting  was  not 
a  religious  service  in  disguise  ;  it  was  what  it  was 
called,  a  Popular  Concert.  Its  aim  was  to  provide 
music  and  amusement  for  the  million  ;  it  was  the 
Mission’s  contribution  to  the  Saturday  night  pro¬ 
blem  of  our  great  cities.  4  Saturday  night,’  Collier 
used  to  say,  4  is  the  devil’s  busiest  night.’  But 
what,  he  asked  himself,  is  the  good  of  declaiming 
against  the  public-house,  or  the  disreputable  music 
hall,  if  you  do  nothing  else  ?  What  were  the 
people  to  do  ?  Where  were  they  to  go  ?  And  so 
he  determined  that,  if  they  would,  they  should 
come  to  the  Central  Hall.  A  weekly  programme 


134 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


was  arranged  of  first-rate  quality  ;  he  would  have 
no  ambitious  amateurs  eager  for  a  chance  to  4  try 
their  voices  ’ ;  he  engaged  competent  artistes  and 
paid  them  their  fees.1  One  penny — later  raised 
to  twopence — was  the  charge  for  admission.  Even 
those  who  cannot  sit  through  a  concert  without 
something  to  eat  and  drink  were  not  forgotten  ; 
they  got  their  chance  in  the  interval.  Of  course 
— this  was  nearly  forty  years  ago,  be  it  remembered 
— there  was  a  loud  clamour  among  the  4  Ydgrun- 
ites.’  How,  they  asked,  could  you  expect  to  do 
any  good  on  Sunday  in  a  hall  in  which  a  woman 
in  a  low-necked  dress  sang  a  secular  song  the  night 
before  ?  But  Collier  was  not  to  be  moved  ;  he 
had  counted  the  cost,  and  he  held  on  his  way. 
He  was  always  in  charge  of  the  concert  himself, 
and  he  would  allow  nothing  in  the  programme  that 
was  vulgar  or  unseemly ;  2  but  he  could  not  believe 
that  he  was  imperilling  any  sacred  interest  com¬ 
mitted  to  him  as  a  minister  when  he  tried  to  weave 
this  tiny  thread  of  colour  into  the  drab  and  cheer¬ 
less  lives  of  the  multitudes  around  him.  4  I  count 
that  day  basely  spent,’  Lord  Morley  once  said,  4  in 

1  In  those  early  years  the  well-known  singers,  Madame  Kirkby  Luun 
and  Madame  Sadler  Fogg,  both  used  to  sing  at  these  concerts. 

2  For  example,  writing  to  Mrs.  Collier,  who  was  away  from  home,  he 
says  (Oct.  15,  1907) :  ‘  Last  night  we  had  a  good  concert :  a  great  pack. 
In  the  cinematograph  entertainment  a  film  came  on  that  I  did  not  like, 
so  I  stopped  it  at  once.  All  went  on  smoothly  afterwards.  There  was 
nothing  very  objectionable,  but  I  thought  it  rather  vulgar,  and  not  our 
sort.  I  spoke  to  the  people  about  the  difficulty  of  keeping  entertain¬ 
ments  pure  and  good.  I  think  the  whole  thing  would  be  beneficial. 
The  people  applauded  my  action.  It  would  make  the  young  people 
think.’ 


THE  PHILANTHROPIST 


185 


which  no  thought  is  given  to  the  life  of  the  garret 
and  the  hovel.5  It  was  always  of  these  that 
Collier  was  thinking,  and  never  more  sincerely  than 
when  he  planned  his  Popular  Saturday  Evening 
Concerts. 

It  will,  perhaps,  be  said  by  some  that  work  of 
the  kind  referred  to  in  this  chapter  is  work  that 
ought  not  to  be  left  to  private  and  individual 
enterprise  ;  that  it  should  be  made  the  responsi¬ 
bility  of  the  State  ;  and  that,  in  any  case,  it  is 
no  part  of  the  work  of  the  Church.  These  are 
not  questions  that  can  be  discussed  here,  but  I 
may  indicate  what  would  probably  have  been 
Collier’s  answer.  In  the  first  place,  he  would 
have  said  that  whether  it  was  the  work  of  the 
State  or  not,  in  point  of  fact  the  State  was  not 
doing  it.  In  1901,  the  year  in  which  the  Men’s 
Home  was  opened,  there  were  neither  old-age 
pensions,  nor  out-of-work  doles,  to  soften  the  hard 
lot  of  the  helpless  poor.  And  if  some  one  had 
urged  that  it  was  the  duty  of  those  who  cared  for 
the  poor  not  to  concern  themselves  with  mere 
palliatives,  but  to  work  for  reforms  that  would 
remove  the  disease  itself,  Collier  might  have 
answered,  ‘  Yes,  work  for  them  by  all  means ; 
but  meanwhile,  here  is  John  Jones,  hungry,  home¬ 
less,  helpless — what  is  to  be  done  with  him  ?  ’ 
And,  still  further,  I  think  he  would  have  said  that 
when  the  State  has  done  all  that  it  can  do,  there 
will  still  be  room  and  need  for  work  like  this  ; 
for  the  ways  of  the  State  are  hard,  and  redemption 


136 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


comes  only  through  love,  and  the  service  which 
love  inspires.  As  for  those  who  said  that  work 
of  this  kind  was  no  part  of  the  work  of  the  Church, 
Collier’s  position  was  simply  this  :  not  once  nor 
twice  but  many  times,  from  the  beginning  and  all 
along,  he  had  set  forth  as  the  great  aim  and  hope 
of  the  Mission  the  redemption  of  the  most  hopeless. 
The  faith  of  his  favourite  text — Able  to  save  to  the 
uttermost — was  the  chief  corner-stone  of  all  its 
activities.  4  A  Mission  of  this  class,’  he  wrote  in 
one  of  his  annual  Reports,  4  attracts  the  cadger, 
the  lazy  loafer,  the  half-imbecile  victim  of  hereditary 
pauperism.  It  frankly  wishes  to  do  so.  It  would 
fain  lay  its  hand  on  the  wrecks  of  humanity,  touch¬ 
ing  the  leper  and  raising  the  paralytic.  They  are 
the  despair  of  magistrates  and  poor  law  guardians. 
They  prey  upon  society,  and  add  ceaselessly  to 
the  difficulties  of  social  reformers  and  statesmen. 
Here  is  hopelessness  in  the  concrete.  The  Mission 
never  shrinks  from  the  tasks  of  dealing  with  it.’ 
And  would  any  deny  that  work  like  this  was  the 
work  of  the  Church  ?  But,  as  Collier  soon  dis¬ 
covered,  it  was  work  which,  with  only  such  tools 
as  lay  ready  to  his  hand,  could  never  be  done. 
Either,  then,  he  must  be  content  to  leave  the 
4  poor  devils  ’  of  the  street  to  the  Salvation  Army, 
or  to  the  tender  mercies  of  the  Casual  Ward,  or 
he  must  find  some  way  of  lengthening  the  reach  of 
his  arm.  That,  in  a  single  word,  is  the  whole 
philosophy  of  the  social  work  of  the  Manchester 
Mission. 


THE  PHILANTHROPIST  187 

One  question  still  remains  :  did  this  work  in 
Collier’s  hands  become  merely  an  end  in  itself  ? 
or,  was  there  through  it  all  a  Divine  upthrust  ? 
Did  it  prove  in  any  real  sense  redemptive  ?  What 
is  known  as  the  4  Institutional  Church  ’  has  become 
during  recent  years  a  very  familiar  feature  of  English 
religious  life  ;  but,  while  one  is  thankful  for  any 
evidence  of  honest  concern  on  the  part  of  the 
Church  for  her  unfulfilled  duty  to  the  world,  he 
may  yet  doubt  both  the  wisdom  and  the  worth 
of  a  good  deal  that  goes  on  under  the  shelter  of 
that  elastic  phrase.  In  matters  of  this  sort  it  is 
not  so  much  what  we  think  good  that  counts  as 
what  we  put  first ;  it  is  a  question  of  emphasis, 
and  so  often,  alas,  the  emphasis  comes  on  the 
wrong  thing.  In  the  most  widely  read  novel  of 
recent  years — Mr.  A.  S.  M.  Hutchinson’s  If  Winter 
Comes — the  author  says  : — 

4  Man  cannot  live  by  bread  alone,  the  Churches 
tell  him  ;  but  he  says,  44 1  am  living  on  bread 
alone,  and  doing  well  on  it.”  But  I  tell  you, 
Hapgood,  that  plump  down  in  the  crypt  and 
abyss  of  every  man’s  soul  is  a  hunger,  a  craving 
for  other  food  than  this  earthy  stuff.  And  the 
Churches  know  it ;  and  instead  of  reaching 
down  to  him  what  he  wants — light,  light — 
instead  of  that  they  invite  him  to  dancing  and 
picture  shows,  and  you  ’re  a  jolly  good  fellow, 
and  religion’s  a  jolly  fine  thing  and  no  spoil¬ 
sport,  and  all  that  sort  of  latter-day  tendency. 
Why,  man,  he  can  get  all  that  outside  the 
Churches  and  get  it  better.  Light,  light !  He 
wants  light,  Hapgood.  And  the  padres  come 


138 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


down  and  drink  beer  with  him  and  dance  jazz 
with  him,  and  call  it  making  religion  a  Living 
Thing  in  the  Lives  of  the  People.  Lift  the 
hearts  of  the  people  to  God,  they  say,  by 
showing  them  that  religion  is  not  incompatible 
with  having  a  jolly  fine  time.  And  there  's  no 
God  there  that  a  man  can  understand  for  him  to 
he  lifted  up  to .’ 

I  do  not  think  that  any  fair  critic  ever  brought 
a  charge  like  that  against  the  Manchester  Mission. 
Writing  in  the  early  days  of  the  Great  War,  Collier 
said,  ‘  In  all  its  manifold  activities  the  Mission 
continues  to  prosecute  its  main  purpose,  the  salva¬ 
tion  of  the  individual  through  the  preaching  of 
Jesus  Christ.  Every  agency  is  judged  by  this 
test.’  And,  happily,  there  is  tangible  and  abundant 
evidence  that  the  purpose  was  realised.  A  few 
illustrations  have  already  been  given  on  an  earlier 
page.1  But  the  most  striking  evidence  was  fur¬ 
nished  by  Collier  himself  in  1907,  when  he  appeared 
as  a  witness  before  a  Royal  Commission  on  the 
Poor  Laws  and  the  Relief  of  Distress.  He  was 
asked  if  he  could  give  the  names  of  men  and  women 
who  had  been  rescued  from  drink  and  other  evil 
habits,  and  were  now  sober  and  respectable  citizens. 
‘  Certainly,’  said  Collier,  4  you  shall  have  as  many 
as  you  like  ’  ;  and  in  three  days  a  list  of  over  a 
hundred  names — fifty-three  men  and  fifty  women 
— was  prepared  and  forwarded.  It  lies  before  me 
as  I  write,  and  I  select  four  entries  from  each 
section.  There  is  nothing  whatever  exceptional 

1  See  p.  79. 


THE  PHILANTHROPIST 


139 


about  those  I  have  chosen,  and  the  complete  list, 
it  must  be  remembered,  is  itself  but  an  extract  from 
the  carefully  kept  records  of  the  Mission  : — 

4  F.  II. — Came  to  us  from  prison.  He  had  been 
an  hotel  clerk,  but  through  drinking  habits  he 
had  got  wrong.  He  made  a  great  effort  to 
reform,  and  at  last  a  situation  was  found  for 
him  in  his  own  particular  line  which  he  has 
retained.  Three  years’  record. 

4  W.  H. — Came  to  us  with  a  bad  character  from 
Warwick  gaol.  He  had  suffered  twelve  terms 
of  imprisonment.  He  has  proved  worthy  of 
help,  and  has  worked  nobly  and  well  for  four 
years.  Four  years’  record. 

4  J.  S. — Sold  up  his  home  again  and  again, 
disgraced  his  children  after  his  wife’s  death,  and 
finally  forsook  them.  He  was  hiding  in  Man¬ 
chester.  An  anonymous  letter  came  to  us  and 
we  found  him.  From  the  time  of  his  entrance 
into  our  Home  he  gave  up  the  drink,  and 
became  a  thoughtful,  God-fearing  man.  He 
now  keeps  in  touch  with  his  children,  and  in 
every  way  lives  a  consistent  life. 

‘  G.  R. — Was  out  of  work,  destitute  and 
friendless.  After  months  of  waiting  and  working 
as  a  casual  we  recommended  him  as  storekeeper. 
He  secured  the  situation,  and  by  industry  gained 
the  good  opinion  of  all.  He  married,  and  is  now 
a  good  citizen.  Fifteen  years’  record. 

4  M.  K. — An  orphan,  has  two  sisters,  but  they 
would  do  nothing  for  her.  When  nineteen  gave 
birth  to  a  child  in  the  workhouse  ;  it  died  while 
she  was  there.  Came  to  us  quite  destitute. 
We  kept  her  for  a  time,  and  then  found  her 
a  situation  which  she  retained  for  three  years. 
She  is  now  an  assistant  in  a  coffee  tavern. 
Good  record. 


140 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


4  A.  J. — Age  49.  Came  from  one  of  the 
Unions  in  North  Wales.  Entered  the  Refuge, 
July  1897.  Remained  with  us  a  few  months, 
was  sent  to  a  situation  as  children’s  nurse,  and 
is  still  in  the  same  family,  doing  well.  She  had 
been  in  the  habit  of  giving  way  to  drink,  but 
has  not  touched  it  for  the  last  nine  years.  Nine 
years’  record. 

4  C.  H. — Age  24.  Slept  in  the  Casual  Ward 
the  night  before  she  came  to  our  Refuge,  October 
1897.  She  was  an  orphan  and  quite  destitute. 
We  kept  her  for  five  months,  and  then  found 
her  a  situation  a  few  miles  out  of  Manchester. 
She  remained  in  the  same  family  a  number  of 
years,  and  the  last  time  she  called  told  us  of  her 
approaching  marriage.  Her  mistress  gave  her 
an  excellent  character.  Nine  years’  record. 

4  L.  T. — Age  15.  Her  mother  had  been  in 
the  Refuge  in  1900.  Drink  had  made  the 
mother  a  complete  wreck,  and  she  begged  that 
we  would  save  her  daughter  from  the  same  fate. 
L.  was  one  of  five  illegitimate  children,  and  had 
never  known  what  it  was  to  have  proper  food 
or  a  decent  home.  We  cared  for  and  then  sent 
her  to  a  friend  of  the  Mission  to  be  trained 
in  household  duties.  She  remained  for  nearly 
four  years,  and  then  left  to  take  a  better  situa¬ 
tion.  She  is  now  happily  married  to  a  steady 
young  man.  Seven  years’  record.’ 

It  was,  I  think,  a  witty  American  who  once  said 
that  Christians  to-day  are  no  longer  content  to 
play  the  part  of  the  Good  Samaritan  to  those  who 
have  fallen  among  robbers — they  see  to  the  policing 
of  the  Jericho  road.  The  sentiment  is  entirely 
after  Collier’s  own  heart.  As  a  rule  he  took  no 
active  part  in  the  political  or  municipal  life  of  his 


THE  PHILANTHROPIST 


141 


city ;  but  on  two  or  three  occasions,  when  some 
great  moral  issue  was  at  stake,  he  intervened,  and 
with  striking  effect.  Quite  early  in  his  Manchester 
days,  for  example,  Alexander  M‘Laren  and  he 
went  into  the  witness-box  to  protest  against  the 
granting  of  a  drink  licence  to  a  place  of  popular 
amusement  which  had  won  for  itself  an  evil 
reputation.  It  was  Collier’s  first  fight  of  the  kind, 
and  both  then  and  on  a  similar  occasion  in  1910, 
the  protest  was  successful  and  the  licence  refused. 
He  was  greatly  concerned  for  the  purity  of  the 
administration  of  justice  in  the  city,  and  more  than 
once — it  is  hardly  worth  while  recalling  the  circum¬ 
stances  now — he  let  it  be  known  that  there  is  a 
moral  power  in  the  community  to  which  even 
Watch  Committees  and  magistrates  must  be  in 
subjection.  But  it  was  not  striving  against  sin  in 
the  field  of  public  controversy  that  Collier’s  greatest 
triumphs  were  won.  He  had  none  of  the  fiery 
eloquence,  the  fierce  moral  passion,  the  high 
crusading  temper,  which  made  men  like  his  con¬ 
temporaries,  Hugh  Price  Hughes  and  Silvester 
Horne,  so  great  a  power  in  the  public  life  of  their 
time.  But,  as  this  chapter  has  very  imperfectly 
tried  to  show,  he  achieved  success  in  a  field  where 
many  faint  and  grow  weary,  and  he  left  behind 
him  an  example  of  wise  and  patient  well-doing 
in  the  cause  of  the  neglected  poor  such  as  this 
generation  has  rarely  seen. 


CHAPTER  IX 


THE  MAN 

In  every  man’s  work  there  is  always  something  of 
the  man  himself,  and  in  the  foregoing  pages  we  have 
been  watching  Collier  in  his  work  at  the  same  time 
that  we  have  been  watching  him  at  it.  Some  few 
further  touches,  however,  the  picture  still  needs,  if 
others  are  to  see  in  it  the  man  his  friends  knew 
and  loved. 

I.  SOME  PERSONAL  CHARACTERISTICS 

Collier’s  character  presented  few  problems  to 
those  who  sought  to  read  it.  Forthrightness  was 
the  very  nature  of  the  man  ;  it  showed  itself  in  all 
he  said  and  did  and  was.  And  with  it  there  went 
the  fearlessness  which  is  so  often  the  dower  of  simple 
hearts  and  which  in  him,  as  we  have  seen,  some¬ 
times  bore  the  look  of  masterfulness  ;  men  thought 
him  impatient  and  brusque.  And  it  is  probably 
true  that  an  organisation  like  the  Manchester 
Mission  could  never  have  been  created  by  a  man 
cast  in  a  gentler  mould.  Nevertheless,  Collier 
usually  had  himself  well  in  hand.  ‘  If  you  lose 
your  patience,’  he  used  to  say,  ‘  you  lose  your  in¬ 
fluence.’  One  of  his  favourite  texts  was,  He  that 
believeth  shall  not  make  haste.  ‘  He  would  be  trying 

142 


THE  MAN 


143 


to  dictate  letters,’  writes  one  of  his  clerical  secre¬ 
taries,  4  when  almost  every  sentence  would  be 
punctuated  by  a  telephone  call,  or  a  knock  on  the 
door.  Probably  there  would  be  a  meeting  to  attend 
in  a  short  time,  and  he  would  begin  to  feel  “  hustled.” 
Suddenly  he  would  pull  up  short,  shake  his  head, 
smile  quizzically  and  say,  “  He  that  believeth  shall 

not  make  haste — eh,  Miss  H - ?  ”  ’  Nor,  with 

all  his  instinct  and  capacity  for  leadership,  was  he 
ever  guilty  of  the  meanness  of  thrusting  down 
smaller  men,  and  using  them  to  exalt  himself. 
Collier’s  colleagues  always  knew  that  they  could 
count  on  him  to  give  them  their  chance,  and  to 
find  room  and  opportunity  for  any  gifts  that 
were  theirs.  To  go  through  the  Reports  and  other 
publications  of  the  Mission  during  the  thirty-six 
years  of  his  superintendency,  and  to  see  how 
comparatively  inconspicuous  is  the  figure  of  the 
man  who  in  the  eyes  of  the  public  was  4  the  very 
pulse  of  the  machine,’  is  to  learn  a  lesson  in  true 
humility  and  self-effacement  which  will  not  soon 
be  forgotten. 

Perhaps  nothing  was  more  characteristic  of 
Collier,  or  comes  back  more  readily  to  his  friends 
when  they  recall  him,  than  his  big,  hearty,  in¬ 
fectious  laugh.  He  lived  his  daily  life  very  near 
to  4  the  tears  of  things,’  but  nothing  could  kill  the 
gaiety  of  his  spirit.  Few  guessed  how  heavy  were 
the  burdens  that  he  carried,  he  bore  them  with 
so  light  a  heart ;  his  vigour  was  all  4  radiant 
vigour  ’  ;  sunshine  and  merriment  went  with  him 


144 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


everywhere.  ‘  The  sad  heart  tires  in  a  mile,’  but 
joy  in  service  is  strength  for  service,  and  Collier 
held  on  his  way  because  he  refused  to  be  depressed. 

*  Seasons  impaired  not  the  ray 
Of  his  buoyant  cheerfulness  clear.’ 

Indeed,  good  folk  were  sometimes  taken  aback  by 
what  seemed  an  almost  dangerous  leaning  to  levity 
in  him.  Casual  acquaintances  who  met  him  at 
the  Manchester  Reform  Club  might  say  afterwards 
that  he  was  4  a  jolly  good  fellow,’  but  not  exactly 
what  you  call  a  4  saint.’  Well,  of  course,  all  depends 
upon  what  you  mean  by  a  4  saint.’  If  you  mean 
the  traditional  saint  of  the  Middle  Ages,  4  the  saint 
that  we  see  on  the  walls  of  every  picture  gallery 
in  Europe,  the  saint  that  still  haunts  the  imagina¬ 
tion  of  hundreds  of  thousands  of  devout  men  who 
regard  the  Romish  apostasy  with  horror — the  thin, 
pale  face,  the  eyes  red  with  tears  or  weary  with 
watching,  the  transparent  hands,  the  wasted  form  ’  : 
if  that  is  our  ideal  of  saintliness,  then  Collier  was 
as  little  of  a  saint  as  Martin  Luther  himself.1  Many 

1  The  words  quoted  in  the  text  are  from  Dale’s  striking'  chapter  on 
‘  Christian  Worldliness.’  What  he  says  about  Luther  would  serve  very 
well  as  a  portrait  of  Collier :  ‘  His  massive  face  and  robust  form  were 
the  outward  and  visible  signs  of  the  vigour  and  massiveness  of  his  moral 
and  religious  character.  He  was  a  man,  and  did  not  try  to  be  anything 
else :  God  made  him  a  man,  what  w  as  he  that  he  should  quarrel  with 
God’s  work?  He  had  flesh  and  blood;  he  could  not  help  it.  Pie  did 
not  desire  to  help  it.  He  ate  heartily  and  enjoyed  seeing  his  friends  at 
dinner.  He  married  a  wife  and  loved  her  ;  and  he  loved  God  none  the  less. 
He  liked  music  and  songs  as  well  as  psalms  and  sermons.  He  could 
laugh  as  well  as  preach.  He  had  a  genial  humour  as  well  as  deep  devout¬ 
ness.  He  was  a  brave  man,  strong  and  resolute,  with  abounding  life  of  all 
kinds  ;  a  saint  of  a  type  with  which,  for  many  evil  centuries,  Christen¬ 
dom  had  been  unfamiliar.’ — Laws  of  Christ  for  Common  Life,  p.  235. 


THE  MAN 


145 


religious  people,  says  4  Parson  John  ’  in  his  letter 
to  4  Miriam  Gray,’  when  they  talk  of  religion  have 
a  bedside  manner,  and  walk  about  in  felt  slippers. 
And  if  they  speak  of  God,  they  always  tidy  them¬ 
selves  first.  But  Collier  was  one  of  those  who  go 
in  and  out  of  all  the  rooms  in  God’s  house  as  though 
they  were  quite  at  home,  who  open  the  doors  with¬ 
out  knocking,  and  hum  on  the  stairs,  and  it  isn’t 
always  hymns  either.  4  He  was  splendidly  human 
to  the  very  last  fibre  of  him,’  says  his  friend, 
Dr.  Campbell  Morgan.  Good  stories,  animals, 
games — he  delighted  in  them  all.  What  an  in¬ 
exhaustible  store  of  anecdotes  he  seemed  to  have, 
and  how  he  loved  to  share  them  with  his  friends, 
both  in  public  and  in  private !  Central  Hall 
memories,  if  not  Central  Hall  records,  could  tell, 
I  fancy,  of  four-footed  as  well  as  human  waifs  and 
strays  that  sometimes  found  a  temporary  refuge 
there.  Among  Collier’s  papers  I  came  across  an 
old  memorial  card,  with  a  black-edged  border, 
inscribed  with  mock  solemnity  in  his  own  hand¬ 
writing  thus  : — 

‘In 

Loving  Memory 
of 

Old  Puss 

who  after  17  years’  faithful  service  in 
the  same  family  was  rewarded 
by  being  drowned,  Aug.  24,  1886. 

“A  joyful  mother  of  children.” 

Ps.  cxiii.  9.’ 

But  to  the  last  Collier  had  no  keener  interest, 

K 


146 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


outside  his  work  and  his  home,  than  cricket. 
There  is  a  picture  of  him  bowling  the  first  ball  in 
a  match  at  the  opening  of  a  sports’  field  which  had 
been  secured  for  the  young  people  of  the  Mission. 
In  a  telegram  to  one  of  his  sons  who  was  on  the 
Continent  on  his  birthday,  the  one  item  of  news 
added  to  the  birthday  greetings  was  :  4  Yorkshire 
won  190.’  And  once,  when  he  himself  was  on  his 
way  to  Norway,  and  somebody  on  shipboard  asked 
him  about  the  Mission,  he  replied  laughingly,  4 1 ’m 
not  thinking  much  about  the  Mission  now  ;  what 
I  want  to  know  is,  is  Lancashire  going  to  beat 
Surrey  ?  ’ 

It  was  homely,  human  qualities  of  this  kind  that 
helped  to  win  for  Collier  that  easy  entrance  at 
other  men’s  doors  which  was  so  often  noted  in  him. 
He  had  the  happy  knack  of  putting  strangers  at 
once  and  completely  at  their  ease  with  him.  He 
made  friends  with  the  guards  on  the  tramcars, 
and  the  passengers,  with  whom  he  made  his  daily 
journeys  to  and  from  town.  He  would  laugh  and 
chat  with  them,  ask  them  about  their  families, 
and  by  his  frank  and  breezy  ways  would  often  put 
a  brighter  face  on  the  morning  of  a  dull  day.  4  While 
other  men,’  writes  one  who  knew  him  in  his  college 
days,  4  would  wait  and  wonder  if  their  overtures 
would  be  understood  and  welcomed,  Collier  would 
get  right  home,  brushing  out  of  the  way,  with  his 
cheery  and  genuine  bonhomie,  all  mistrust  and 
indifference.’  It  was  always  his  way  to  4  walk 
right  up  and  say  44  Hullo !  ”  ’  Some  well-known 


THE  MAN 


147 


American  verses,  of  which  this  line  is  the  refrain, 
adds  the  same  correspondent,  admirably  describe 
Collier’s  manner,  and  for  that  reason  I  repro¬ 
duce  them  in  a  footnote.1  One  little  incident, 
trifling  as  it  is,  will  serve  to  show  that  their  simple 
philosophy  of  life  was  also  his  own  :  One  day 

1  ‘  When  you  see  a  man  in  woe, 

Walk  right  up  an’  say  f<  Hullo  !  ” 

Say  “  Hullo  !  ”  and  “  How  d’  ye  do  ?  ” 

Slap  the  fellow  on  the  back, 

Bring  yer  han’  down  with  a  whack  ; 

'Waltz  right  up  an’  don’t  go  slow, 

Grin  an’  shake  an’  say  “  Hullo  !  ” 

Is  he  clothed  in  rags  ?  O  sho  ! 

Walk  right  up  an’  say  “  Hullo  !” 

Rags  is  but  a  cotton  roll 
Jest  for  wrappin’  up  a  soul ; 

An’  a  soul  i9  worth  a  true 
Hale  an’  hearty  “  How  d’ye  do  ?” 

Don’t  wait  for  the  crowd  to  go  ; 

Walk  right  up  an’  say  “  Hullo  !  ” 

When  large  vessels  meet,  they  say, 

They  saloot  an’  sail  away, 

Jest  the  same  are  you  an’  me 
Lonesome  ships  upon  a  sea  ; 

Each  one  sailing  his  own  jog 
For  a  port  beyond  the  fog. 

Let  yer  speakin’-trumpet  blow, 

Lift  yer  horn  an’  cry  “  Hullo  !  ” 

Say  “  Hullo  !  ”  an’  How  d’  ye  do  ?  ” 

Other  folk  are  good  as  you. 

When  ye  leave  yer  house  of  clay, 

Wanderin’  in  the  Far-Away, 

When  ye  travel  through  the  strange 
Country  t’  other  side  the  range, 

Then  the  souls  you ’ve  cheered  will  know 
Who  ye  be,  an’  say  “  Hullo  !”  ’ 

Miss  Lena  Ashwell,  the  famous  actress,  who  used  often  to  recite  these 
lines  to  the  men  at  the  front  during  the  War.  says  that  this  was  always 
their  favourite  piece. 


148 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


during  the  War  he  turned  into  a  hairdresser’s  shop 
in  Manchester  for  a  shave.  Many  of  the  regular 
assistants  were  serving  in  the  army,  and  a  boy 
was  employed  to  do  the  lathering.  When  he  had 
finished  his  part  of  the  operation,  Collier  said  to 
him, 4  Have  you  ever  shaved  anybody  yet,  my  lad  ?  ’ 

4  No,  sir,’  he  answered.  4  Then,’  said  Collier,  4  have 
your  first  try  on  me.’  4  Do  you  know  who  I  am  ?  ’ 
he  added.  4  Yes,  sir,’  said  the  boy,  4  you  ’re 
Mr.  Collier  of  the  Central  Hall.’  4  Well,  go  ahead  !  ’ 
said  Collier.  The  task  was  safely  completed,  and 
the  lad  went  about  the  rest  of  the  day’s  work  with 
a  glow  of  satisfaction  at  his  heart  which  the  silver 
coin  in  his  pocket  did  not  altogether  explain. 

II.  IN  THE  STUDY 

It  will  be  abundantly  obvious  from  what  has 
already  been  said  that  little  room  was  left  in  Collier’s 
crowded  days  for  the  life  of  the  study.  There  is 
evidence  that  during  the  first  four  years  of  his 
ministry  he  worked  at  his  books  carefully  and 
systematically  ;  1  but  from  1885  onwards,  every¬ 
thing  had  to  give  way  to  the  claims  of  the  Man¬ 
chester  Mission.  Nor  was  there,  so  far  as  I  have 
been  able  to  discover,  either  then  or  at  anv  other 
time,  any  hesitation  about  the  path  he  should 

1  For  example,  lie  writes  (Aug.  12,  1917)  to  his  son  who  was  preparing 
for  the  ministry  :  ‘  It  is  well  to  keep  ample  records,  analyses,  references, 
etc.  I  have  lost  an  immense  amount  of  useful  material  for  lack  of  this 
systematic  effort.  The  first  four  years  I  tried,  and  reap  to-day  the 
result ;  that  little  has  often  saved  me  much  labour.  But  when  1  got 
to  Manchester  I  was  compelled  to  give  time,  energy,  thought  to  one 
great  purpose — the  founding  of  the  Mission.’ 


THE  MAN 


149 


follow.  Of  any  struggle  between  rival  and  com¬ 
peting  interests,  his  friends  saw  no  sign ;  there 
were  no  lingering  looks  behind,  no  idle  regrets  for 
what  once  might  have  been,  and  now  could  never 
be.  Rather,  he  gave  one  the  impression  that  he 
coveted  no  man’s  lot,  that  if  he  had  had  his  years 
to  live  over  again,  he  would  have  made  the  same 
choice  ;  to  this  end  was  he  born,  to  this  end  came 
he  into  the  world,  that  he  might  do  the  work 
of  the  Manchester  Mission.  Nevertheless,  Collier 
knew  as  well  as  any  man  the  place  that  books 
and  serious  study  ought  to  have  in  a  minister’s 
life.  He  was  never  guilty  of  that  unspeakably 
foolish  depreciation  of  learning  into  which  the 
evangelist  has  sometimes  suffered  himself  to  be  be¬ 
trayed.  4  Surrender  of  the  intellect  ’  indeed  !  As 
if — as  Sir  George  Adam  Smith  says — religion  did 
not  need  all  the  brains  we  poor  mortals  can  put 
into  it !  In  a  letter  to  his  wife,  full  of  a  wise  and 
tender  solicitude  for  the  welfare  of  their  four  sons, 
but  too  private  to  be  given  here,  Collier  writes  of 
the  one  who  was  destined  for  the  Christian  ministry  : 
4  In  giving  him  to  the  service  of  God,  I  would 
like  to  give  him  at  his  best,  a  well-educated,  re¬ 
fined,  spiritually-minded  and  earnest,  evangelistic 
minister.’  And  the  letter  goes  on  to  discuss  the 
necessary  readjustments  of  the  family  budget  in 
order  to  secure  for  him  a  university  course.  4 1  am 
not  over-anxious,’  he  says,  4  nor  am  I  worrying,  but  I 
am  desirous  to  do  right  at  this  juncture.  We  will 
do  all  we  can  to  give  each  of  our  lads  a  good  chance 


150 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


for  this  life  and  the  next,  for  their  own  success, 
and  for  God’s  service.5 

It  ought  to  be  said,  too,  that  Collier  managed 
to  get  a  good  deal  more  reading  done  than  many 
of  his  brethren  gave  him  credit  for.  For  one  thing 
he  had,  in  a  very  unusual  degree,  the  gift  of  picking 
other  men’s  brains  ;  and  as  the  work  of  the  Mission, 
and  particularly  the  Tuesday  mid-day  service, 
brought  him  into  frequent  contact  with  many  of 
the  foremost  religious  teachers  and  preachers  of 
the  land,  he  had  unusual  opportunities  for  exercis¬ 
ing  it.  4  I  have  little  time  to  forage  for  myself,’ 
he  used  to  say  to  his  friends,  4  tell  me  what  there 
is  good  coming  out.5  He  had  learned,  too,  the 
meaning  of  the  apostolic  word  about  4  making  the 
very  most  of  the  time  ’ — e^ayopa^opevoi  tou  Kaipov.1 
Most  of  his  reading  was  done  in  bed  and  on  holidays  ; 
and  as,  fortunately,  he  was  a  fairly  quick  reader, 
he  was  able  to  get  through  what  was,  under  the 
circumstances,  a  surprisingly  large  number  of  books. 
Once  in  a  meeting  of  Free  Church  ministers,  held 
at  Union  Chapel,  Manchester,  he  told  how  it  was 
done ;  and  I  cannot  do  better  than  quote  his 
own  simple  words  :  4  My  days,5  he  said,  4  are  spent 
largely  in  the  office  and  in  committee,  and  it  must 
be  evident  to  my  brethren  that  I  could  not  have 
carried  on  the  spiritual  work  of  the  Mission  if  there 
had  not  been  another  side  to  my  life.  God  seems 
to  have  taken  this  matter  into  His  own  hands, 
knowing  how  fully  every  hour  of  my  time  is  occupied. 

1  Eph.  v.  1G. 


THE  MAN 


151 


The  desire  and  the  need  for  long  sleep  seem  to  have 
been  taken  away  from  me.  I  cannot  sleep  early 
in  the  evening,  but  from  twelve  to  two  I  generally 
sleep  fairly  well,  then  invariably  I  wake  and  there 
is  no  more  sleep  until  six  o’clock.  At  first  I  used 
all  sorts  of  means  to  try  to  induce  sleep,  but  by 
degrees  I  accepted  the  inevitable.  I  provided  my¬ 
self  with  a  special  light  and  a  little  table  on  which 
I  kept  a  few  favourite  books,  and  in  that  way  I  get 
as  much  quiet  reading  as  many  of  my  brethren. 
The  books  I  have  on  my  table  are  those  that  are 
likely  to  help  me  in  the  deepening  of  my  spiritual 
life.  At  six  o’clock  I  sleep  for  an  hour,  and  then 
get  up  ready  for  the  day’s  work.’ 

As  the  words  just  quoted  might  suggest,  Collier 
gave  a  large  place  in  his  reading  and  thinking  to 
such  subjects  as  Prayer  and  the  Holy  Spirit.  When 
he  prepared  the  hymn  sheets  for  use  in  the  Sunday 
services  of  the  Mission,  it  was  his  custom  always 
to  include  one  hymn  addressed  to  the  Spirit.1  He 
was  always  buying  new  books  on  Prayer ;  when 
Dr.  Fosdick’s  well-known  little  book  on  that  subject 
appeared,  he  presented  a  copy  of  it  to  each  of  the 
Sisters  of  the  Mission.  Of  modern  religious  writers 
he  owed  most,  perhaps,  to  Dr.  M‘Laren.  Another 
favourite  was  Dr.  W.  M.  Clow,  of  Glasgow.  He 
was  much  impressed  by  Professor  J.  A.  Robertson’s 
Spiritual  Pilgrimage  of  Jesus ,  and  by  Sir  W.  Robert¬ 
son  Nicoll’s  Reunion  in  Eternity ,  his  copy  of  which 
showed  signs  of  very  careful  reading.  Among  the 

1  See  the  incident  related  on  p.  110. 


152 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


older  novelists  he  liked  best  Scott,  Dickens,  Thac¬ 
keray,  and  George  Eliot.  Recent  writers  who 
specially  appealed  to  him  were  Ian  Hay,  A.  A.  Milne, 
John  Buchan,  and  W.  J.  Locke.  Naturally  he  was 
much  interested  in  social  problems,  and  he  read 
widely,  though  sometimes  with  more  weariness  than 
profit,  in  Blue-books  and  the  reports  of  conferences 
and  commissions. 

But  probably  the  subject  which  lay  nearest  his 
heart,  where  books  were  concerned,  was  Hymnology. 
He  approached  the  subject,  of  course,  mainly  from 
the  practical  point  of  view  ;  that  is  to  say,  he 
sought  for  hymns — and  tunes — that  would  lend 
effectiveness  and  power  to  popular  worship.  He 
had  on  his  shelves  a  large  collection  of  hymns  and 
sacred  songs,  and  he  spent  many  hours  ransacking 
them  for  treasure  with  which  to  enrich  his  Sunday 
services.  He  knew  something  of  music — enough, 
at  least,  to  enable  him  to  test  the  tunes  for 
himself.  Not  only  so,  but  he  knew  what  he 
wanted,  and  what  he  believed  the  people  wanted. 
He  thought,  as  Dr.  Dale  thought,  and  as  many 
others  think,  that  the  whole  spirit  of  public  worship 
is  often  chilled  and  depressed  by  the  use  of  hymns 
which  congregations  find  no  delight  in  singing, 
either  because  their  language  is  stiff  and  cold,  or 
because  they  are  set  to  tunes  in  which  life  and  fire 
have  been  sacrificed  to  correctness.1  And  so  he 

1  In  an  old  number  of  The  Congregationalist — March  1875 — there  is  a 
very  striking  article  written  by  Dr.  Dale  on  the  occasion  of  the  first 
visit  of  Moody  and  Sankey  to  Birmingham.  I  venture  to  disinter  a  few 
sentences,  partly  for  their  own  sake,  but  still  more  because  I  believe 


THE  MAN 


153 


waded  through  book  after  book,  fitting  tunes  to 
hymns  and  hymns  to  tunes,  in  order  that  in  the 
great  congregation  men  and  women  might  sing 
unto  the  Lord  and  make  a  joyful  noise  to  the  God 
of  their  salvation.  Collier’s  interest  in  this  subject 
led  to  his  being  invited  to  edit  The  Free  Church 
Council  Hymnal — ‘  a  Hymnal  for  use  in  Special 
Missions.’  One  hymn  in  the  collection — number  28 
— though  his  name  is  modestly  omitted,  is  from 
his  own  pen. 

they  exactly  represent  Collier’s  own  feeling  about  hymns  and  music  in 
the  worship  of  the  Church  : 

‘Sankey’s  “songs”  have  been  sharply  criticised.  It  is  very  easy  to 
criticise  them  ;  it  might  be  more  profitable  to  consider  why  it  is  that 
both  the  music  and  the  words  are  so  popular  and  effective.  .  .  .  The 
tunes  which  were  sung  by  Nonconformist  congregations  thirty  years 
ago  were  often  vulgar,  but  they  were  real  tunes,  easily  learnt,  easily 
remembered  ;  and  they  haunted  people  during  the  week.  Most  of  them 
were  destitute  of  artistic  merit,  but  the  people  liked  them,  and  they 
were  the  natural  expression  of  their  emotion.  Many  of  the  new  tunes 
are  not  “  tunes  ”  at  all.  They  are  not  vulgar,  but  they  are  uninteresting. 
They  differ  from  their  predecessors  very  much  as  the  dulness  of  a 
“respectable”  dinner  party  differs  from  the  merriment  of  a  picnic,  at 
which  the  people  are  just  a  little  unrefined,  but  at  which  they  have 
resolved  to  enjoy  themselves.  I  do  not  like  either,  but  on  the  whole 
I  prefer  the  picnic.  The  men  who  have  composed  or  adapted  the 
new  tunes  are  for  the  most  part  organists,  who  know  very  much  more 
about  how  to  get  solemn  effects  out  of  their  instrument  than  how’  to 
give  the  people  something  to  sing.  Mr.  Sankey’s  melodies — whatever 
their  demerits — are  caught  by  thousands  of  people  of  all  kinds,  culti¬ 
vated  and  uncultivated,  men,  women  and  children,  and  are  sung  “  with 
a  will.” 

‘  I  agree  with  those  who  say  that  we  ought,  if  possible,  to  get  really 
good  music  for  God’s  service,  but  it  must  be  on  one  condition  :  that  we 
do  not  sacrifice  “God’s  service”  to  the  “good  music.”  Our  first 
business  is  to  enable  Christian  congregations  to  give  free  and  happy 
expression  to  their  joy  and  trust  in  God’s  love,  and  their  reverence  for 
God’s  majesty  :  the  promotion  of  their  musical  taste  is  a  matter  of  only 
secondary  impoi’tance.  .  .  .  The  same  principles  are  applicable  to  Sankey’s 
hymns.  Critics  have  said  that  they  are  “childish,”  that  they  have 
no  “  literary  merit,”  that  there  is  something  ridiculous  in  hearing  a 


154 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


III.  IN  THE  HOME 

Among  the  many  letters  which  Mrs.  Collier 
received  after  the  death  of  her  husband  was  one 
from  a  distinguished  minister  of  the  Baptist  Church, 
who  said  :  ‘  My  stays  in  your  home  are  some  of  the 
sunshiny  memories  of  my  life.  I  don’t  know  of  a 
wife  who  had  a  husband  who  was  more  of  a  lover, 
or  boys  who  had  a  father  who  was  more  of  a  com¬ 
panion.’  These  words  truly  and  fitly  sum  up  the 
little  that  needs  to  be  said  concerning  Collier’s  life 
in  the  home. 

He  was  married  on  April  23,  1889,  to  Miss  Ettie 

congregation  of  grown  people  singing  with  enthusiasm  “  I  am  so  glad 
that  Jesus  loves  me.”  Well,  the  fact  that  hymns  that  are  simple  even 
to  childishness  are  sung  by  grown  people  with  so  much  earnestness, 
that  hymns  with  no  “literary  merit”  kindle  new  fire  in  the  hearts  of 
men  and  women  who  know  something  of  Shakespeare,  Milton,  and 
Wordsworth,  is  surely  worth  investigating.  Is  it  the  “childishness” 
which  accounts  for  the  power?  Is  it  the  absence  of  “literary  merit”? 
I  think  not.  Give  the  people  a  collection  of  hymns  characterised  by 
equal  fervour,  expressing  with  the  same  directness  the  elementary  con¬ 
victions  and  the  deepest  emotions  of  the  Christian  heart,  and  if  they 
have  also  the  literary  merit  which  is  absent  from  many,  at  least,  of 
Mr.  Sankey’s  songs,  they  will  become  equally  popular,  and  their 
popularity  will  be  more  enduring.  But  our  hymn  books  are  too  stiff 
and  cold.  People  want  to  sing,  not  what  they  think,  but  what  they  feel ; 
and  if  they  are  asked  to  sing  hymns  in  which  there  is  no  glow  of  feeling, 
and  in  which  the  thought  is  perfectly  commonplace,  they  will  not  sing 
at  all.  “  I  am  so  glad  that  Jesus  loves  me”  is  a  childish  way  of  express¬ 
ing  our  joy  in  the  love  of  Christ ;  but  if  hymn  writers  will  not  help  us 
to  express  it  in  a  more  masculine  way,  we  must  express  it  as  best  we 
can.  .  .  .  Again,  it  is  no  use  asking  people  to  sing  to  God  in  a  language 
remote  from  the  language  of  their  common  life.  .  .  .  Mr.  Binney’s 
“  Eternal  Light  ”  has  the  simplicity,  fervour,  and  dignity  which 
constitute  a  perfect  hymn  ;  but  I  am  not  sure  whether  its  dignity  does 
not  impose  a  kind  of  strain  upon  very  many  minds,  which  though 
very  good  for  them  occasionally,  interferes  with  their  delight  in 
singing  it.’ 


THE  MAN 


155 


Collin*  of  Manchester.  Mrs.  Collier  is  still  living 
(1923),  and  that  alone  would  be  sufficient  to  restrain, 
if  restraint  were  needed,  the  writer’s  pen. 

£  Not  easily  forgiven 

Are  those  who,  setting  wide  the  doors  that  bar 
The  secret  bridal  chambers  of  the  heart, 

Let  in  the  day.’ 

But  by  Mrs.  Collier’s  kindness  I  have  been  per¬ 
mitted  to  read  some  of  the  letters  addressed  to  her 
by  her  husband,  and  intended,  of  course,  for  no 
other  eyes  than  hers  ;  and,  though  they  are  not  for 
quotation  here,  there  can  be  no  harm,  I  think,  in 
saying  that  they  deepen  the  beauty  of  that  lifelong 
honeymoon  of  which  those  who  were  privileged  to 
know  the  Colliers’  home  must  often  have  caught 
some  glimpses.  Among  the  very  few  complete 
manuscripts  of  any  kind  that  Collier  left  behind 
him  is  one  of  the  address  delivered  at  the  wedding 
of  his  eldest  son.  I  give  it  here  in  full,  because  it 
sets  forth  the  ideals  that  Collier  had  always  before 
him  during  the  two  and  thirty  years  of  his  own 
married  life  : — 

‘  If  our  desires  and  hopes  which  find  expres¬ 
sion  in  our  prayers  are  fulfilled,  then  your 
happiness  and  well-being  are  assured  for  all 
time.  Our  confidence  is  based  on  the  fact  that 
you  both  come  to  God’s  altar  having  consecrated 
your  lives  to  Him.  You  have  learned  that  all 
life  is  sacred,  and  will  feel  specially  to-day  and 
in  the  days  to  come  the  sanctity  of  married  life. 
You  will  find  there  is  in  it  great  opportunity  for 
mutual  help.  You  have  already  had  the 
privilege  of  a  more  intimate  knowledge  of  each 


156 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


other  than  ordinary  friendship  makes  possible, 
and  you  will  learn  still  more  of  each  other’s 
virtues  and  failings  by  the  closer  intercourse  of 
married  life.  Though  you  may  find  limitations 
which  you  did  not  expect,  or  excellencies  sur¬ 
passing  what  you  already  know,  I  trust  you  will 
never  be  really  disappointed  in  each  other  ;  and 
in  learning  to  understand  each  other  you  may 
be  mutually  helpful.  You  will  have  a  right  to 
expect,  and  I  am  sure  will  show  to  each  other, 
more  sympathy,  consideration  and  appreciation 
than  you  will  get  from  any  one  else.  In  a 
common  yearning  after  the  true,  the  good,  and 
the  beautiful,  in  a  unity  of  desire  and  ambition 
for  the  highest  purposes  of  life,  we  pray  you  may 
succeed. 

4 1  am  sure  you  do  not  look  upon  happiness 
alone  as  the  chief  end  of  married  life.  There  is 
no  finer  discipline  in  any  walk  of  life  than  that 
of  the  home  and  family.  There  is  ample  oppor¬ 
tunity  for  the  development  of  character,  and 
much  depends  on  each  for  the  perfecting  of  this 
discipline.  It  will  be  well  for  you  to  consider 
each  other — not  to  be  exacting,  to  be  full  of 
sympathy,  and  by  patience  and  fidelity  in  love, 
to  stand  by  each  other.  You  will  have  new 
opportunities  for  service.  Already  in  the 
Church  and  for  the  nation  you  have  shown 
yourselves  prepared  to  consecrate  your  gifts  to 
God  and  man  ;  together  you  will  be  more  than 
ever  equal  to  the  calls  of  service.  I  would  have 
you  to  note  how  often  that  word  “  together  ” 
occurs  in  the  Marriage  Service.  It  is  together 
that  you  will  face  trial  and  difficulty  ;  together 
you  will  share  both  joy  and  sorrow  ;  together 
you  will  face  life  and  build  up  your  character 
and  your  home.  The  establishment  of  a  Chris¬ 
tian  home  will  be  one  of  the  highest  services 


THE  MAN 


157 


you  will  be  able  to  render  to  the  nation.  Home 
life  is  indeed  the  greatest  national  asset.  A 
unique  opportunity  lies  before  you,  we  pray 
that  your  highest  expectations  may  be  ful¬ 
filled.’ 

Five  children  were  born  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Collier, 
all  of  them  sons,  of  whom  one  died  in  infancy,  and 
two  were  killed  in  the  Great  War.  Only  a  few  of 
the  father’s  letters  to  his  boys  have  been  preserved, 
but  sufficient  to  illustrate  the  genial  companionship 
in  which  he  lived  with  them,  and  the  affectionate 
care  with  which  he  watched  over  and  guided  them. 
The  following  was  written  to  one  of  them  whose 
schooldays  were  drawing  to  a  close,  but  whose 
future  was  still  undecided  : — 

‘The  Olives,  Mar.  13,  1909. 

4  My  dear  Harold, — I  have  been  thinking  and 
praying  about  you  boys  a  good  deal  this  week, 
and  feel  I  would  like  to  write  you  a  private  note. 
What  about  your  future  ?  You  will  be  leaving 
at  the  end  of  next  term.  Then  you  will  be 
eighteen.  This  means  you  have  had  an  extra 
chance  for  preparation  for  the  future,  physically, 
mentally,  and  spiritually.  Do  you  still  feel 
called  to  the  ministry  ?  Does  your  love  for 
Jesus  Christ  increase  ?  Do  you  still  read  and 
think  about  your  Bible  ?  Is  prayer  more  real 
to  you  day  by  day  ?  These  questions  will  help 
you  to  test  yourself.  What  is  your  influence  on 
other  boys  ?  Do  they  look  up  to  you  as  a 
Christian  ?  Do  you  influence  them  for  good  ? 
Do  you  ever  try  to  save  them  from  wrong,  and 
try  to  win  them  for  Christ  ?  I  want  you  to 
examine  yourself  prayerfully  and  carefully  on 


158 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


these  points.  You  are  seventeen  and  a  half 
years  old  and  ought  to  stand  for  something  now 
as  a  servant  of  Jesus  Christ,  especially  if  you 
are  to  be  set  apart  for  the  ministry.  Of  course, 
whatever  you  may  be,  you  can  serve  Jesus  in 
that  sphere.  I  am  ambitious  about  your  future, 
but  my  chief  desire  is  that  you  should  be  a  godly 
man.  I  can  honestly  say  I  want  you  to  be  this 
above  all  things.  Think  this  letter  over,  and 
some  time  write  me  a  private  letter.  If  you 
like  you  can  address  it  to  the  Central  Hall.  God 
bless  you,  Harold.  I  have  great  desires  for  you. 
Hence  this  letter.  I  trust  you  fully,  and  only 
want  to  help  you  by  telling  you  what  has  been 
on  my  heart  this  week  every  day. — With  earnest 
prayer  for  you  always,  I  am,  your  loving 

Father.’ 

To  the  same  son,  who  eventually  entered  into 
business,  he  writes  again  at  a  later  date  : — 

[Undated.] 

‘  My  dear  Hal, — I  have  been  thinking  a  good 
deal  about  you  in  the  early  hours  and  I  am  now 
writing  in  bed.  I  have  prayed  much  daily  for 
you  lately.  You  are  passing  through  a  time  of 
testing,  and  I  want  to  see  you  above  all  a  man 
of  faith  and  loyalty  to  Christ.  This  is  the  most 
important  of  all.  Never  get  in  the  habit  of 
blaming  Providence.  It  is  as  foolish  and  harm¬ 
ful  as  it  is  absurd.  And  we  all  know  it  is  so 
even  when  we  do  it.  God’s  character  is  above 
suspicion.  He  has  been  specially  good  to  us 
in  our  home  and  family  comfort.  .  .  .  “  Have 
faith  in  God.”  I  am  sure  all  will  come  right  for 
you,  if  you  go  straight,  and  act  sensibly. 

‘Keep  still  on  the  look-out.  Don’t  go  at  it 
apologetically.  Make  everybody  feel  you  are 


THE  MAN 


159 


keen,  and  determined  to  make  the  world  bend 
before  you.  .  .  .  Begin  self-improvement  as  you 
think  best.  Every  bit  of  special  knowledge 
(shorthand,  typing,  languages,  commercial  eco¬ 
nomics,  etc.),  lifts  a  man  out  of  the  ruck  of 
those  who  have  nothing  but  a  superficial  and 
general  knowledge ;  it  gives  marketable  value. 
Don’t  let  pride  hinder  you  from  setting  about 
things. 

‘  A  good  time  to  you  to-night  at  class.  I  am 
so  glad  you  do  that  work.  Stick  to  it,  my  boy, 
and  all  that  is  like  it.  I  hope  you  can  read  this. 
It  is  written  with  my  heart’s  best  love. 

Father.’ 

The  following  letters  were  addressed  to  a  younger 
son,  who  is  now  in  the  ministry  of  his  father’s 
Church  : — 

‘The  Central  Hall, 
Nov.  1,  1910. 

‘  My  dear  Donald, — I ’m  fearfully  busy,  but 
I  feel  I  must  send  you  a  line  to  say  how  glad  I 
was  to  receive  your  letter.  Many,  many  thanks. 
It  is  a  joy  to  me  to  feel  that  you  can  write  so 
frankly.  Yes,  I  know  what  your  position  is.  I 
passed  through  a  similar  phase  of  school  life. 
But  responsibility  is  always  good  for  us,  and 
especially  at  your  age.  It  quickens  manhood, 
and  it  gives  you  an  opportunity  of  standing  for 
all  that ’s  good.  Even  when  the  boys  don’t 
seem  to  like  your  stand,  if  you  do  all  in  the 
right  spirit  they  will  at  heart  honour  you.  I 
shall  know  now  how  better  to  pray  for  you. 
God  be  with  you,  my  boy,  and  clear  the  way 
for  you  in  coming  days. — Much  love, 

Father.’ 


160 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


‘The  Central  Hall, 
Mar.  18,  1911. 

*  My  dear  Don, — I  am  glad  you  are  taking  a 
good  position  in  the  school,  and  with  Mr.  Beattie.1 
Your  position  is  not  an  easy  one.  I  know  all 
about  the  difficulties,  for  I  had  exactly  the  same 
position  at  Bickerton  Llouse.  You  have  a  duty 
both  to  the  boys  and  to  Mr.  Beattie.  You  can 
be  a  great  blessing  to  the  school.  Stand  for 
truth,  purity,  and  all  that  is  Christlike  ;  do  it 
in  all  humility,  or,  as  you  would  say,  44  without 
side.”  You  may  at  times  feel  as  if  you  are 
likely  to  be  misjudged,  but  keep  straight  and 
all  will  be  well.  God  help,  guide,  and  strengthen 
you  !  I  hope  soon  to  see  you.  Much  love, 

Father.’ 

‘Harrogate,  May  29,  1911. 

4  My  dear  Don, — I  ’m  sorry  to  hear  of  this 
possible  disappointment  after  you  have  worked 
so  hard.  But  don’t  get  44  down  ”  ;  all  will  be 
well.  God  has  charge  of  your  life.  You  have 
tried  hard  to  do  your  duty,  and  I ’m  really 
proud  of  you.  Many  thanks  for  your  letter 
of  this  morning.  It  did  me  good — a  lot  of  good. 
Keep  your  faith  strong  in  prayer.  It ’s  not 
weak  but  strong  to  lean  hard  on  God.  In  haste. 
— Your  affectionate  Father.’ 

‘The  Central  Hall, 
July  8,  1911. 

4  My  dear  Donald, — This  week  I ’ve  been 
two  days  at  Didsbury  in  the  July  Examination 
Committee  for  candidates  for  our  ministry.  It 
is  a  very  interesting  Committee.  There  were 
about  sixty  young  men,  and  we  passed  thirty- 
eight  of  them.  I  could  not  help  thinking  of  you 

1  The  Headmaster. 


THE  MAN 


161 


all  the  time,  and  wondering  how  soon  you  would 
be  in  that  position.  There  were  three  or  four 
ministers’  sons,  and  two  of  the  best  candidates 
were  among  these.  I  offered  many  a  prayer  for 
the  fellows,  and  your  name  came  into  my 
prayers  that  God  would  fit  you  every  day  for 
your  great  future  as  His  minister.  Keep  that 
before  you — His  minister.  In  every  way  try 
to  fit  yourself  as  well  as  ask  Him  to  fit  you. 
Fit  yourself  physically,  mentally,  spiritually ; 
set  before  yourself  a  life  of  very  high  principle, 
a  great  ideal,  and  live  it  daily  by  God’s  help. 
I  cannot  tell  you  how  ambitious  I  am  for  you, 
and  how  I  place  my  highest  hopes  in  you.  .  .  . — 
Love  from  all,  Father.’ 

‘  Collin  wood,  Deganwy, 
Aug.  12,  1917. 

‘  My  dear  Donald, — With  a  heart  full  of  love 
for  you  I  wish  you  very  many  happy  returns 
of  the  day.  May  God  spare  you  for  a  happy 
and  successful  ministry  !  It  has  been  a  great 
satisfaction  and  joy  to  me  that  He  has  called 
you  into  His  ministry,  and  that  you  responded 
to  the  call.  So  far  you  have  had  a  fuller  ex¬ 
perience  than  mine  or  many  others.  You  had 
ample  opportunity  in  preparation  of  body  and 
mind  at  school  and  university ;  a  year  at 
Didsbury ;  then  out  into  the  war-time  experi¬ 
ence  of  chaplain.  Who  could  have  foreseen 
all  this  ?  And  how  wonderfully  God  has  pre¬ 
served  your  life  !  I  believe  in  time  He  will 
give  you  back  your  health  ;  that  is  my  daily 
prayer,  and  for  this  great  purpose — that  you 
may  fulfil  to  the  full  your  great  calling.  The 
present  years  are  very  precious  ones  in  prepara¬ 
tion  by  reading,  experience,  and  communion 
with  the  Divine.  You  will  never  have  the  same 


L 


162 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


chance  again,  for  the  years  all  seem  to  bring  an 
increase  of  detailed  work  that  robs  one  of  the 
same  opportunities.  .  .  .  Well,  I  believe  you 
will  be  guided  aright.  If  our  daily  prayers  are 
answered  for  you,  you  will  be  rich  indeed.  Above 
all  I  earnestly  pray  that  the  holy  life  without 
which  no  man  can  have  the  influence  he  ought 
to  have  may  be  yours. 

4  W e  are  eagerly  awaiting  your  coming.  Mother 
and  I  have  tried  to  think  of  a  birthday  present, 
and  failed  to  come  to  a  satisfactory  decision. 
The  money  is  here  and  you  must  decide  when 
you  arrive. 

*  I  preached  this  morning  at  Bethel  on  Psalm 
lxii.  8. 

4  We  are  proud  of  you  and  our  hearts  are  full 
as  we  talk  of  you  to-day. 

4  Fondest  love  from  mother  and  self, 

Father.’ 

Collier’s  was  always  a  happy  nature — 4  no  lark 
more  blithe  than  he  ’ — and  it  was  in  his  home,  with 
his  wife  and  boys,  that  his  happiness  was  at  its 
height.  Except,  too,  for  the  death  of  his  infant 
son  in  1897,1  the  years  had  dealt  kindly  with  him 
and  his.  Then  came  the  vast  shadow  of  the  Great 
War  which  darkened  all  the  land,  and  turned  his 
day  into  night.  Twice  in  one  week  the  desolating 
stroke  fell  which  carried  off  both  his  eldest  and  his 
youngest  sons.  It  was  a  cruel,  staggering  blow  ; 
nevertheless,  he  went  bravely  on.  Hearts  were 
breaking  all  around  him,  and  for  their  sakes  he 

1  It  is  worth  noting-  that  on  the  Sunday  when  his  babe  lay  dead  in  the 
house  he  preached  twice  as  usual.  His  wife  asked  him  if  he  thought  he 
could  manage  it.  1  Ettie/  he  said,  ‘  if  I  were  a  working-man  I ’d  have 
to  go  to  work  just  the  same.  I  mustn’t  shirk  my  duty.’ 


THE  MAN 


163 


dare  not  let  sorrow  work  its  wild  will  upon  him. 
Yet  he  was  never  quite  the  same  man  again.  ‘  This 
is  our  passion  week,’  he  wrote  to  an  old  friend  one 
year  when  the  anniversary  of  his  boys’  death  fell 
in  Holy  Week.  Again  and  again,  when  he  was  in 
Australia,  he  would  say,  4  Wouldn’t  Sidney  ’ — 
Sidney  was  his  Benjamin — 4  have  loved  to  be  here 
now  ?  ’  or,  4  Sidney  would  have  had  something  to 
say  about  this.’  Only  a  fortnight  before  his  own 
death  he  said  to  another  of  his  sons,  4 1  never  have 
them  out  of  my  mind  for  long.  But  there  is  always 
one  day  each  week  when  they  are  constantly  in  my 
thoughts,  and  I  can’t  help  feeling  the  pity  of  it  all.’ 
He  made  no  parade  of  pain ;  but  he  went  about 
like  a  man  deeply  wounded,  whose  wound  bled 
inwardly. 


IV.  IN  THE  SECRET  PLACE 

4  Your  father,’  Collier  once  wrote  to  the  Rev.  W. 
Bardsley  Brash, 4  had  the  two  characteristics  I  covet 
most  for  myself,  sanity  and  spirituality.’  1  No  one 
ever  questioned  Collier’s  sanity  :  it  impressed  the 
most  casual  observer.  He  had  indeed  an  almost 
uncanny  shrewdness  in  fitting  means  to  ends  in 
every  form  of  Christian  service.  But  the  other 
coveted  quality  men  were  not  so  quick  to  recognise 
in  him.  Nevertheless,  it  was  there,  and  it  was 
there  in  fuller  measure  than  those  who  only  saw 
him  at  a  distance  perhaps  ever  guessed.  There 

1  The  story  of  the  father,  the  Rev.  J.  Denholm  Brash,  is  told  in  his 
son’s  delightful  biography  of  him  entitled  Love  and  Life. 


164 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


could  not  but  be  peril  in  a  life  so  crowded  as  his  ; 
fortunately,  he  knew  it,  and  therein  lay  his  safe¬ 
guard.  He  was  walking  home  one  day  with  a 
younger  preacher,  whose  popular  gifts  were  just 

beginning  to  attract  large  crowds  :  4 1  say, - ,’ 

he  said,  4  have  you  ever  thought  of  that  text,  Great 
multitudes  came  together  to  hear.  But  He  withdrew 
Himself  in  the  deserts ,  and  prayed  ’  ?  It  was  a  word 
of  counsel  to  his  companion ;  but  it  was  still  more 
a  word  about  himself,  and  his  own  conscious  daily 
need.  The  truth  is,  Collier  was  something  of  a 
mystic ;  a  4  practical  mystic  ’  indeed,  to  borrow 
Lord  Rosebery’s  happy  phrase  about  Oliver  Crom¬ 
well,  but  still  a  mystic.  What  Lord  Morley  says 
of  Gladstone,  that  he  4  lived  from  a  great  depth  of 
being,’  was  true  also  in  its  way  of  Collier.  All  his 
springs  were  in  God.  A  favourite  text,  which 
hung  for  years  in  his  office  in  the  Central  Hall,  was 
this  :  God  is  able  to  make  all  grace  abound  unto  you  ; 
that  ye ,  having  always  all  sufficiency  in  all  things ,  may 
abound  unto  every  good  work.  The  full,  rushing 
stream  of  his  daily  activities  was  fed  from  the 
eternal  hills. 

4  Firm  faith,  and  evermore 
Prayer  from  a  living  source  within  the  will. 

And  beating  up  through  all  the  bitter  world, 

Like  fountains  of  sweet  water  in  the  sea, 

Kept  him  a  living  soul.’ 

What  has  been  said  earlier  in  this  chapter  about 
Collier’s  reading  shows  his  interest  in  the  mystical, 
experimental  side  of  religion  ;  but  beyond  this  he 
had  schooled  himself  to  be  4  alone  with  the  Alone,’ 


THE  MAN 


165 


to  push  back  the  throng  and  press  of  things,  and 
to  make  a  space  about  himself  where  he  might  have 
room  for  quiet  and  thought  and  prayer.  The  casual 
acquaintance  rarely  saw  this  side  of  the  man ; 
perhaps  he  hardly  suspected  it.  He  knew  his 
tremendous  powers  of  work,  he  laughed  at  his 
merry  stories,  and  went  away  saying  what  a  terrific 
worker  he  was,  and  what  a  jolly  good  fellow,  but 
knowing  the  secret  neither  of  his  labour  nor  his 
laughter.  But  those  who  were  privileged  to  be 
near  him  knew.  4  He  was  always  ready,’  one  of 
his  oldest  friends  in  the  work  of  the  Mission  once 
said  to  me,  ‘  for  deep  soul-talk.’  4  When  we  went 
away  together,  as  we  often  did,’  says  Dr.  J.  A. 
Hutton,  4  our  talk  was  rarely  of  the  merely  external 
side  of  his  work,  but  of  the  inner  side — of  the  moods 
favourable  or  sinister  in  the  public  mind  towards 
the  faith.’  ‘There  was  no  man,’  Dr.  Campbell 
Morgan  writes,  4  to  whom  I  went,  in  hours  of 
personal  perplexity  on  all  sorts  of  subjects,  with 
more  assurance  that  a  long,  quiet  talk  with  him 
would  enable  me  to  see  a  situation  completely  and 
clearly,  than  S.  F.  Collier.  I  always  felt  that  in 
converse  with  him  I  had  been  brought  very  near 
to  the  mind  of  Christ.’  The  greatest  hour  in  the 
day  for  some  of  his  fellow-workers  was  when  he 
met  them  for  prayer,  morning  by  morning,  at  the 
Central  Hall.  A  few  lines  from  a  letter  to  his  wife 
— June  20,  1910 — may  help  us  to  understand  why  : 

4 1  ’ve  a  lot  to  think  about  just  now  and  feel  the 
responsibility  more  than  I  sometimes  care  to  say. 


166 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


If  I  could  not  say,  “  I  believe  in  God,  the  Father 
Almighty,”  and  realise  the  truth  of  His  guidance, 
care,  and  over-ruling  Providence,  I  should  not  dare 
to  go  on  with  my  work.  Christian  work  is  not  easier, 
conditions  of  the  people  are  perplexing,  one’s  own 
life  grows  in  bigness  and  responsibility,  and  one 
feels  more  what  it  means  to  live  as  one  gets  older. 
I  remember  always  the  Master’s  answer  to  His 
perplexed  disciples,  Have  faith  in  God.  Now  I  must 
stop  this  or  you  ’ll  think  I  am  sermonising.  But 
I  am  not ;  I’m  just  emptying  my  mind  in  yours 
by  way  of  relief.  There  are  things  that  can’t  be 
said  to  everybody.  The  life  in  Christ  is  the  only 
one  worth  living,  and  it  is  worth  everything  else.’ 

And  when  the  worst  storm  of  his  life  struck  him, 
his  faith  still  held.  One  or  two  tiny  memories  of 
that  sad  time  will  show  what  I  mean.  ‘  The 
morning  after  Sidney  was  killed,’  1  writes  one  of 
the  Sisters  of  the  Mission,  ‘  Mr.  Collier  came  down 
[to  the  Hall]  to  take  prayers  as  usual.  He  com¬ 
menced  to  read  the  Psalm,  but  broke  down  and  had 
to  leave  the  room.  Mr.  Crook,  the  late  treasurer 
of  the  Mission,  continued  to  read,  but  before  he 
finished,  Mr.  Collier  returned  and  led  in  prayer 
without  a  break  in  his  voice.’  ‘  I  heard  him  preach,’ 
writes  another  correspondent,  ‘  the  Sunday  in 
March  1918,  two  days  before  he  got  the  telegram 
telling  him  of  his  son  Sidney’s  death.  His  subject 


1  It  should  be  explained  that  Collier’s  youngest  son,  Sidney,  was 
reported  f killed ’  at  once;  his  eldest  son,  Frank,  was  at  first,  and  for 
long,  only  reported  ‘missing.’ 


THE  MAN 


167 


was  “  The  Anchor  that  holds.”  The  Sunday  follow¬ 
ing  I  heard  him  again.  I  shall  never  forget  how 
he  tried  to  be  as  cheerful  and  encouraging  as  usual, 
telling  us  if  his  son  could  speak  he  would  say, 

“  Carry  on.”  He  alluded  to  his  sermon  of  the 
%/ 

previous  Sunday  and  said,  “  I  little  thought  how 
soon  I  would  be  called  upon  to  trust  to  that 
Anchor.  I  am  here  to-night  to  tell  you,  it  does 
hold.”  *  It  was  a  frequent  way  of  Collier’s  to  end 
letters  to  his  friends  with  the  words  4  Laus  Deo  ’ — 
4  Praise  to  God.’  When  his  sons’  funeral  cards  had 
to  be  prepared  it  did  not  seem  either  suitable  or 
sufficient  to  write  the  usual  4  In  Memoriam  ’  ; 
instead  he  wrote,  even  there,  the  old,  happy  4  Laus 
Deo .’  And  when  his  own  turn  came  those  who 
loved  him  wrote  again,  4  In  praise  to  God.’ 


CHAPTER  X 


PRESIDENT  OF  THE  CONFERENCE 
1913-1914 

The  first  4  Yearly  Conference  of  the  People  called 
Methodists  5 — to  use  the  familiar  and  time-honoured 
phraseology — was  held  in  1744.  As  long  as  John 
Wesley  was  alive  there  was,  of  course,  only  one 
possible  President.  Since  his  death  in  1791  his 
chair  has  been  filled  by  a  succession  of  Methodist 
preachers  annually  elected  by  the  vote  of  their 
ministerial  brethren.1  Men  of  very  varying  types 
have  been  chosen  for  the  high  honour  :  preachers 
like  Morley  Punshon,  scholars  like  William  F. 
Moulton,  evangelists  like  Charles  Garrett,  adminis¬ 
trators  like  James  H.  Rigg,  and  a  few  of  manifold 
gifts  like  Hugh  Price  Hughes.  Often,  far  too  often 
indeed,  the  honour  has  been  deferred  until  the 
recipient  was  well  on  in  his  sixties,  and  his  physical 
strength  unequal  to  the  tremendous  strain  which, 
under  present-day  conditions,  the  presidential 
office  inevitably  imposes.  Fortunately  for  himself, 
and  for  his  Church,  Collier  was  only  fifty-seven 
when,  at  Liverpool  in  1912,  he  was  designated  to 

1  Oddly  enough,  in  these  democratic  days,  this  restriction  to  the 
ministerial  members  of  the  Conference  of  the  right  to  elect  the  President 
is  still  maintained  in  English  W esleyan  Methodism.  Use  and  wont  is 
all  that  can  now  be  pleaded  in  defence  of  a  practice  which  has  long  been 
abolished  in  all  the  other  Methodist  Churches  throughout  the  world. 

168 


PRESIDENT  OF  THE  CONFERENCE 


169 


succeed  his  old  college  friend,  F.  Luke  Wiseman,  in 
the  chair  of  the  Wesleyan  Methodist  Conference. 
A  brief  note,  written  to  his  wife  immediately  after 
the  vote  had  been  declared,  reveals  his  own  feeling 
about  the  honour  and  responsibility  which  had  come 
to  him  :  4  You  know,’  he  said,  ‘  I  have  not  sought 
the  honour  at  all,  and  indeed  have  shrunk  from  it. 
I ’m  glad  for  your  sake,  and  for  the  sake  of  the  boys, 
and  of  special  friends  who  desire  to  see  me  President. 
Now  I  rely  on  God’s  help.  I  have  prayed  that  He 
would  only  permit  this  election  if  He  meant  to  go 
with  me  all  the  way.’ 

The  Conference  of  1913  met  at  Plymouth.  One 
of  the  first  and  most  important  duties  of  the  newly- 
elected  President  is  the  delivery  of  his  two  inaugural 
addresses — the  first  to  the  Representative  Session, 
the  second,  a  week  later,  to  the  Pastoral  Session. 
There  were  the  usual  little  pleasantries  as  the  re¬ 
tiring  President  handed  over  to  his  successor  the 
simple  insignia  of  his  office.  Of  course,  Collier 
must  have  his  bit  of  fun  :  ‘No  one  expected  me 
to  occupy  the  chair,’  he  said,  glancing  back  to  their 
Didsbury  days  together ;  ‘  everybody  knew  you 
would.’  ‘  I  do  not  profess  to  be  a  Wiseman,’  he 
went  on  ;  ‘I  am  only  a  Collier ;  but  I ’ve  never 
been  a  Collier  on  strike  or  out  of  employment.’ 
Then  he  turned  to  the  serious  business  of  his  address 
— ‘  Wesleyan  Methodism  and  its  Message  for  To¬ 
day.’  It  was,  like  that  to  his  fellow-ministers  the 
following  week,  both  in  matter  and  in  manner, 
wholly  characteristic  of  the  man.  On  the  literary 


170 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


side  it  answered  to  Mr.  Augustine  Birrell’s  descrip¬ 
tion  of  the  kind  of  speeches  the  House  of  Commons 
likes  to  listen  to  to-day  :  ‘  Plain,  lucid  statements, 
gathering  up  all  the  arguments,  the  right  word, 
the  clean  phrase,  and  no  frills.’  Probably  not  a 
few  of  the  members  of  the  Conference  were  sur¬ 
prised  at  the  character  and  frequency  of  the  literary 
allusions.  This  busy  man  of  affairs  was  evidently 
not  such  a  stranger  in  the  world  of  books  as  some 
of  them  had  imagined.  It  was  not  merely  that 
he  quoted  Methodist  writers,  and  famous  divines 
like  Chalmers,  Martineau,  Dale,  Liddon,  and 
M‘Laren ;  Wordsworth,  Mark  Pattison,  R.  L. 
Stevenson,  Sir  James  Paget,  Sir  J.  R.  Seeley,  and 
Grant  Robertson  were  all  pressed  into  his  service. 
In  their  subject-matter,  Collier’s  two  presidential 
addresses  were  simply  the  philosophy  of  his  own 
life  and  work,  the  reduction  to  theory  of  his  twenty- 
eight  years’  practice  in  the  Manchester  Mission.  As 
this  has  been  abundantly  illustrated  in  the  fore¬ 
going  pages,  nothing  further  need  be  said  about  it 
here.  But  a  brief  quotation  dealing  with  two  other 
points  will,  I  think,  be  of  interest. 

When  the  Conference  met  in  Plymouth  the  peace 
of  the  Wesleyan  Methodist  Church  was  seriously 
threatened  by  a  sharp  theological  controversy  which 
had  broken  out  during  the  preceding  year.  Pam¬ 
phleteers  and  newspaper  correspondents  had  been 
waging  a  fierce  warfare,  and  nobody  quite  knew 
how  the  matter  might  end.  The  President,  of 
course,  could  side  with  neither  party,  but  his  wise 


PRESIDENT  OF  THE  CONFERENCE  171 


words  from  the  chair  did  much  to  bring  about  the 
all  but  unanimous  decision  which  was  eventually 
reached.  First  he  pleaded  for  the  note  of  certainty 
in  the  Methodist  pulpit : — 

4  Too  many  are  busy  dissecting,  others  defend¬ 
ing,  the  Gospel,  when  they  ought  to  be  heralding 
it  with  triumphant  certainty.  Men  are  tired 
of  negative  criticism — of  teaching  that  neither 
strengthens  faith,  confirms  hope,  creates  en¬ 
thusiasm,  nor  comforts  the  soul.  They  are 
often  amused  at  the  satisfaction  with  which  we 
quote  any  scientist  or  psychologist  who  deigns 
to  patronise  Jesus  Christ,  or  has  written  a 
testimony  to  the  probable  efficacy  of  prayer, 
as  if  we  were  not  certain  of  our  own  convictions. 
If  our  experience  has  not  produced  conviction 
for  ourselves  and  the  note  of  certainty  in  our 
witness,  no  amount  of  outside  testimony  of  this 
sort  will  give  power  to  our  message.  We  are 
witnesses  of  these  things.  Our  appeal  will  be 
effective  in  the  measure  that  we  are  evidently 
sure  of  what  we  preach  and  what  we  testify.’ 

But,  he  went  on  : — 

1  This  does  not  mean  that  the  spirit  of  Method¬ 
ism  is  intolerant  of  criticism  and  research.  As 
long  as  we  are  loyal  to  the  Evangel,  44  never  too 
broad  for  the  Cross’s  narrow  way,”  Methodism, 
like  her  founder,  cramps  no  man’s  mental  out¬ 
look.  There  is  far  more  liberty  of  thought  in 
our  Church  than  is  generally  supposed.  Joseph 
Benson’s  letter  to  a  critic  expresses  the  mind  of 
Wesley,  who  is  said  to  have  inspired  the  letter  : 
44  I  never  undertook  to  defend  every  sentence 
of  Mr.  Wesley’s.  He  does  not  expect  it  or 
desire  it.  He  wishes  me,  and  every  man,  to 
think  for  himself.”  ’ 


172 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


The  other  feature  of  Collier’s  opening  address 
was  its  frank,  outspoken  counsel  to  the  laity;  he 
was  equally  outspoken,  be  it  remembered,  in  his 
address  to  the  ministers  a  week  later  : — 

‘  When  the  laity  fail  to  fulfil  their  responsi¬ 
bility  they  are  creating  ecclesiasticism — the 
minister  is  compelled  to  undertake  the  duties 
that  ought  to  be  in  the  hands  of  the  laity,  and 
develops  into  the  ecclesiastic  against  his  will. 
It  is  said  that  in  many  circuits  ministers  find 
it  difficult  to  persuade  men  to  take  office  ;  they 
go,  cap  in  hand,  to  beg  men  to  fill  the  official 
positions  in  God’s  house.  Surely  there  is  some¬ 
thing  wrong  when  a  high  privilege  like  this  of 
serving  God  and  His  Church  is  shunned  or 
treated  as  a  burden  !  ...  You  may  retire  from 
your  golf,  your  mill,  your  work,  your  club,  but 
you  must  not  retire  from  the  business  of  Christ 
till  He  comes.  It  is  mockery  to  sing — 

“  Happy  if  with  my  latest  breath 
I  may  but  gasp  His  name,” 

and  talk  of  retiring  at  fifty.  Your  young  people 
will  not  believe  in  such  a  religion.  They  are 
not  going  to  accept  seriously  a  religion  at 
eighteen  or  twenty-one  that  you  find  less  use 
for,  and  less  interest  in,  as  you  get  older.’ 

One  testimony  to  the  power  of  the  address  written 
while  the  first  impression  was  still  fresh  is  worth 
reproducing  : — 1 

‘  It  was  a  business-like  performance ;  it  had 
the  air  of  one  who  was  not  flustered,  and  was 
after  something  he  much  wanted  ;  of  one  who 

From  one  of  the  Rev.  Arthur  Hoyle’s  brilliant  Conference  sketches 
in  the  Methodist  Recorder. 


PRESIDENT  OF  THE  CONFERENCE  173 


knew  that  the  thing  he  was  after  was  to  be  got, 
if  he  could  hit  upon  the  way.  But  it  was  more 
than  that.  It  had  nothing  of  the  tactician,  of 
the  committee  man,  of  the  administrator,  nor 
much  of  the  theologian  ;  but  it  had  plenty  of 
salt,  a  most  sound  savour,  a  noble  sanity  and 
clarity,  as  tolerant  as  light.  It  was  massive 
and  yet  beautiful ;  it  was  immensely  practical, 
and  yet  imagination  played  and  toyed  with 
touches  of  literature — even  with  Matthew 
Arnold.1  I  don’t  quite  know  how  to  get  at 
the  heart  of  the  message,  save  to  say  it  was 
Methodism,  neither  old-fashioned  nor  new- 
fashioned,  but  just  Methodism,  and  a  brave, 
manly  man  speaking  from  his  heart.  .  .  .  There 
was  a  quality  I  have  not  reached  yet.  Few 
men  have  said  plainer  things,  things  more  sig¬ 
nificant  of  distressful  habits  and  lamentable 
failures.  He  got  home  to  “  the  depth  of  inbred 
sin,”  “  the  pride  that  lurks  within.”  It  was 
with  a  most  monstrous  directness  he  spake  the 
truth.  I  can  recall  men  who,  if  they  had  said 
those  things,  might  have  seen  the  Conference 
taking  its  hat  and  going  home,  turning  away 
in  anger,  too  proud  to  make  reply.  But  these 
things  were  so  said  that  they  fell  with  a  kind  of 
healing  balm.  I  know  not  how  it  was  managed, 
but  it  was  managed,  that  the  truth  was  told 
bluntly,  and  yet  it  came  home  as  your  own 
children  come  home  in  innocence,  and  bring 
messages  from  one  you  love.  I  don’t  think 
it  was  a  manner ;  it  was  a  man.  It  was  not 
attempted ;  it  was  never  thought  of.  Out 
came  the  wholesome  truth,  and  you  saw  the 
square  figure  in  the  unaccustomed  place  and 
understood  why  you  had  to  hear  these  things, 

1  I  fancy  there  must  be  a  slip  here ;  at  least  I  can  find  no  reference 
to  Arnold  in  the  address  as  it  was  afterwards  printed. 


174 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


and  why  you  would  have  it  all  just  so,  and  not 
otherwise.’ 

The  extracts  which  have  already  been  given  1 
from  Collier’s  second  address  from  the  Chair — that 
to  the  Pastoral  Session — make  any  further  quota¬ 
tion  from  it  unnecessary  ;  but  I  am  glad  to  be  able 
to  give  an  old  colleague’s  testimony  to  the  pains¬ 
taking  care  with  which  the  two  addresses  were 
prepared  :  4  A  few  weeks  before  Conference,’  he 
writes,  4  he  sent  me  a  post  card  asking  me  to  call 
at  the  office,  and  when  I  got  there  I  found  that  he 
wanted  to  read  to  me  his  two  presidential  addresses, 
which  he  did  in  full.  He  said  he  would  be  most 
grateful  if  I  would  give  him  my  frank  opinion,  as 
this  kind  of  thing  was  a  little  out  of  his  ordinary 
beat.  He  felt  he  had  a  message  to  give,  but  he 
was  most  anxious  it  should  be  given  in  the  right 
spirit  and  temper.  The  address  to  his  brethren  in 
the  Pastoral  Session  gave  him  much  concern.  He 
felt  it  laid  upon  him  to  speak  strongly  on  Ministerial 
Leadership,  but  was  most  anxious  to  do  it  in  a 
brotherly  spirit,  and  he  asked  me  to  pull  him  up 
if  I  thought  that  any  phrase  might  be  misunder¬ 
stood  or  interpreted  in  a  different  spirit  from  the 
one  in  which  he  intended  it  to  be  taken.’ 

In  addition  to  these  two  addresses,  it  falls  to  the 
lot  of  every  President  of  the  Conference  to  deliver, 
a  year  later,  as  ex-President,  the  Charge  to  the 
newly-ordained  ministers.  Collier  fulfilled  this  final 

1  See  pp.  70  and  97. 


PRESIDENT  OF  THE  CONFERENCE 


175 


official  dutyatLeeds,  in  July  1914.  Aprinted  copy  of 
the  Charge  lies  before  me  as  I  write.  It  is  as  simple, 
as  direct,  as  unpretentious,  as  Collier  always  knew 
how  to  be.  From  beginning  to  end  there  is  nothing 
in  it  that  is  either  novel  or  brilliant,  either  in  the 
thing  said  or  in  the  way  of  saying  it.  But  there  is 
something  that  is  better  than  both — the  gathered 
wealth  of  the  years  coined  into  pithy  and  homely 
speech.  I  quote  a  few  of  its  4  rugged  maxims,’  all 
of  them  learned  and  tested  in  the  hard  school  of 
life 


4  All  vocations  have  their  peculiar  perils.  No 
vocation  is  beset  with  more  subtle  temptations 
than  the  ministry — temptations  of  the  study, 
pulpit,  home,  social  life.  We  need  to  be  on  our 
guard  lest  we  become  godless  in  the  service  of 
God : 

4  Familiarity  with  sacred  things  may  prove 
our  undoing.  We  may  talk  theoretically  about 
religious  experiences  when  we  have  ceased  to 
enjoy  them  ourselves.  We  may  deceive  our¬ 
selves  into  thinking  we  possess  what  we  so  often 
talk  about ;  exhort  to  pray,  and  pray  little 
ourselves  ;  plead  for  the  study  of  God’s  Word, 
and  make  little  use  of  it  devotionally  ;  persuade 
to  service  and  to  witness,  while  we  are  lazy  and 
indifferent  in  our  own  life.  Beware  of  losing 
the  sense  of  reality  in  your  ministry.’ 

4  Beware  of  the  peculiar  temptations  of  social 
life.  The  open  door  into  the  homes  of  our 
members,  the  friendly  terms  on  which  we  may 
be,  the  enjoyment  of  recreation  with  them,  the 
generous  kindness  of  the  laity,  all  mean  peril 
to  us  if  we  are  not  careful  to  remember  that 
we  are  first  the  minister,  then  the  friend.  We 


176 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


may  be  both,  but  we  must,  for  our  work’s  sake, 
make  up  our  mind  that  nothing  in  the  relation¬ 
ship  shall  hinder  our  life’s  purpose  “by  all  means 
to  save  some.”  You  may  put  yourself  under 
such  obligation  that  your  independence  is  gone, 
and  your  mouth  is  muzzled.’ 

4  We  need  to  discipline  ourselves  in  method, 
in  habits  of  punctuality,  accuracy,  regularity, 
and  the  like,  lest  we  waste  our  time  and  other 
people’s.  Let  no  business  man  say  that  he  has 
better  business  habits  than  you,  that  he  is  more 
correct  than  you.  He  may  be  cleverer  in  busi¬ 
ness  than  you,  but  he  ought  not  to  be  a  rebuke 
to  you  in  good,  correct,  reliable,  business  habits. 
Count  your  hours  a  sacred  trust.’ 

One  of  the  young  ministers  to  whom  the  Charge  was 
addressed  acknowledged  the  receipt  of  a  printed 
copy  of  it  in  the  following  letter  : — 

4  May  I  thank  you  most  heartily  for  this  gift 
of  your  great  Charge  in  this  permanent  form  ? 
I  am  glad,  however,  that  its  most  permanent 
form  will  be  found  in  our  ministries,  for  which 
your  words  were  an  inspiration.  I  am  happy 
to  think  that  I  had  a  little  share  in  requesting 
you  to  print  it.  Once  again  I  have  been  study¬ 
ing  the  Charge,  and  again  the  words  which  were 
so  deeply  spoken  from  the  heart  have  found  my 
heart  and  searched  my  work.  It  is  just  what 
we  needed,  and  I  shall  always  be  grateful  for 
the  message.’ 

Collier’s  conduct  of  the  business  of  Conference 
called  forth  general  approval,  and  not  a  little 
surprise.  Until  his  election  to  the  Chair  he  had 
taken  little  part  in  its  proceedings.  Moreover,  as 
we  have  already  seen,  the  Plymouth  Conference 


PRESIDENT  OF  THE  CONFERENCE 


177 


had  difficulties  of  its  own.  A  dropping  barometer 
and  the  low  mutterings  of  controversial  thunder  all 
round  the  horizon  were  a  sure  prophecy  of  trouble, 
unless  the  man  at  the  wheel  kept  his  head.  But 
there  was  never  any  need  for  anxiety.  The 
President’s  good  temper  and  tact  guided  the 
Conference  through  the  broken  water  of  a  long 
debate  to  a  decision  against  which  only  seven  hands 
were  held  up.  A  still  more  difficult  situation  faced 
him  in  June  of  the  following  year  when,  according 
to  the  usual  custom,  he  went  to  preside  in  the  Irish 
Conference  at  Belfast.  The  Government’s  Home 
Rule  Bill,  it  will  be  remembered,  was  just  about  to 
be  placed  on  the  statute  book.  Excitement  in  the 
North  of  Ireland  was  at  fever-point.  There  had 
been  a  tumultuous  scene,  only  two  weeks  before, 
in  the  General  Assembly  of  the  Presbyterian  Church. 
In  the  Methodist  Church  opinion  was  sharply 
divided.  6  It  is  safe  to  say,’  writes  an  Irish  corre¬ 
spondent,  4  that  not  two  per  cent,  of  the  ministers 
of  the  Irish  Conference  wanted  any  change  of 
government.  They  had  lived  under  British  rule 
from  birth,  and  felt  as  individuals  no  hardships  nor 
hindrances.’  Not  only  so,  most  of  the  older 
ministers  of  the  Church,  together  with  an  over¬ 
whelming  majority  of  the  laity,  were  vehemently 
opposed  to  the  proposals  which  now  seemed  on  the 
point  of  becoming  law.  On  the  other  hand,  there 
was  a  growing  feeling  among  the  younger  ministers 
that  the  demand  of  the  South  of  Ireland  for  self- 
government  could  no  longer  be  met  with  a  policy 


M 


178 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


of  blind  and  blank  resistance.  Such  was  the 
position :  4  One  party  felt  it  was  a  time  for  patience 
and  caution  in  new  and  uncertain  conditions  ;  the 
other  felt  that  hesitation  or  caution  meant  betrayal 
of  all  that  was  precious.  A  word  might  lead  to 
lasting  bitterness,  and  a  spark  might  set  our  Church 
ablaze  with  unholy  fire.  When  the  hour  struck 
at  which  Irish  Methodism  was  to  declare  itself  on 
the  Irish  Question,  the  Conference  Hall  in  Belfast 
was  packed  to  overflowing.  It  was  known  a 
strongly- worded  resolution  had  been  prepared — too 
strong  for  the  younger  men  to  support.  Would  it 
force  a  split  ?  The  deputation  to  commend  the 
resolution  was  received  and  heard.  Then  Mr. 
Collier  rose  to  his  feet,  his  eye  gleaming,  but  his 
self-control  easy  and  perfect.  He  spoke  a  few 
moderating  sentences,  when  some  one  interrupted 
from  the  gallery.  In  an  instant  he  transfixed  his 
interrupter  with  the  question,  “Are  you  a  member 
of  this  Conference  ?  ”  and  added,  “If  a  second 
interruption  occurs  I  shall  clear  the  gallery  of  all 
who  are  not  Conference  members.”  Nothing  needed 
to  be  added.  Then  in  a  calm,  judicial  manner  he 
reviewed  the  situation  as  it  appeared  to  him.  What 
would  a  strongly-worded  resolution  do  ?  He  wranted 
light,  and  if  any  helpful  word  could  be  spoken,  this 
was  the  hour.  They  were  above  all  things  servants 
of  Christ.  Could  they  not  rise  to  a  common  level 
in  Christ,  where  all  could  unite  ?  The  brotherhood 
of  Methodism  was  very  real ;  it  had  stood  many  a 
strain,  it  would  stand  this  also.  As  he  spoke  the 


PRESIDENT  OF  THE  CONFERENCE  179 


atmosphere  changed  perceptibly.  Here  was  a  man 
of  God  and  a  master  of  assemblies.  We  felt 
sobered,  calmed,  subdued,  reasonable.’  In  the 
changed  atmosphere  another  and  more  moderately 
worded  resolution  was  brought  forward,  and  in 
the  end  carried  almost  unanimously  ;  Gipsy  Smith 
led  the  Conference  in  prayer  and  the  session  ended. 
‘  Things  have  moved  far  and  rapidly  in  Ireland 
since  then,’  continues  the  same  correspondent, 
4  but  two  things  stand  out  as  one  looks  back  over 
nine  years  as  matters  for  thanksgiving.  First,  the 
Irish  Methodist  brotherhood  stood  the  strain  of 
divided  opinions.  No  bitter  feelings  remained. 
Never  were  the  members  of  its  ministry  more 
united,  loyal,  and  affectionate.  It  might  easily 
have  been  otherwise.  Secondly,  under  God, 
Samuel  F.  Collier  was  the  agent  sent  to  guide  the 
Conference  into  paths  of  peace  and  righteousness. 
He  has  gone  to  God,  but  his  patience,  wisdom,  and 
moderating  influence  abide  in  Irish  Methodism  to 
this  day,  and  in  no  part  of  the  United  Kingdom 
are  his  noble  services  more  gratefully  remembered 
than  among  the  Irish  people  called  Methodists.5 

A  letter  to  his  wife  indicates  the  relief  which 
Collier  felt  when  the  fateful  day  was  safely  passed  : — 

4 1  tried  to  write  you  a  letter  in  time  for 
yesterday’s  afternoon  post,  but  failed.  I  was 
kept  very  busily  engaged  every  minute,  and  on 
the  strain.  We  received  a  big  deputation  of 
laymen  from  all  parts  of  Ireland  in  the  morning, 
and  then  proceeded  with  a  resolution  on  Home 
Rule.  This  continued  until  lunch  time.  We 


180 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


closed  with  the  vote  before  the  end  of  the 
morning  sitting.  There  was  a  full  Conference, 
and  every  moment  the  possibility  of  an  explosion. 
It  reminded  me  of  the  morning  at  Plymouth 

on  the  -  controversy.  You  will,  I  know, 

be  glad  to  hear  that  yesterday’s  discussion 
passed  off  as  successfully  as  the  Plymouth  one. 
I  was  thanked  on  all  hands,  and  by  both  parties, 
for  the  way  I  had  managed  the  business.  I  am 
grateful  to  God  for  His  help.  It  seems  strange 
that  I  should  have  had  two  experiences  of  this 
kind.  Yesterday  there  was  not  a  sentence  that 
needs  to  be  regretted.  That  is  saying  a  good  deal, 
for  there  wasn’t  a  moment  when  heat  could  not 
have  been  generated.  These  Irishmen  are  feel¬ 
ing  very  deeply  on  this  Home  Rule  question.’ 

There  is  a  long  and  heavy  list  of  public  engage¬ 
ments  which  every  President  is  expected  to  get 
through  during  his  year  of  office.  If,  in  addition  to 
these,  he  feels  some  special  form  of  service  laid  upon 
him,  he  can  always  count  upon  the  loyal  co-opera¬ 
tion  of  the  Methodist  people.  Collier  decided  to 
mark  his  term  of  office  by  a  4  Campaign  of  Aggres¬ 
sive  Evangelism.’  By  this  he  did  not  mean  a  series 
of  evangelistic  services — that  he  thought  might 
come  later ;  his  aim  was  rather  the  re-kindling  of 
the  evangelistic  spirit  in  the  Churches  themselves. 
No  man  had  toiled  harder  than  he  at  the  problems 
of  social  reform,  but  he  believed  that  behind  and 
beneath  every  other  problem  lies  always  the  pro¬ 
blem  of  the  individual,  and  in  this  campaign  he  set 
himself  to  lay  afresh  upon  the  mind  and  heart  of 
his  Church  the  burden  of  souls.  ‘  The  supreme 


PRESIDENT  OF  THE  CONFERENCE  181 


duty  of  the  Church  of  Christ,5  he  said,  ‘  is  the  duty 
of  preaching  the  Gospel.  Nothing  else  can  take 
its  place.  If  it  fails  here,  its  own  life  declines  and 
its  influence  on  the  world  declines.  And  if  the 
Church  is  to  preach  the  Gospel  with  effect,  its  own 
faith  and  vigour  must  be  maintained  at  full  strength. 
That  is  why  I  call  this  a  campaign  of  evangelism. 
It  is  meant  to  put  new  life  into  the  Churches  them¬ 
selves,  to  bring  back  their  faith  in  their  own  mission. 
Unless  they  believe  in  themselves  and  feel  that  their 
message  is  of  vital  importance,  how  can  they  make 
any  great  impression  on  the  world  ?  5 

Gipsy  Smith,  Collier’s  old  friend  and  fellow- 
campaigner,  joined  him,  and  together  the  two  men 
visited  every  part  of  the  country.  Great  crowds 
welcomed  them  everywhere.  In  Cornwall,  for  ex¬ 
ample,  Collier  calculated  that  within  a  few  days 
they  had  addressed  not  less  than  20,000  people. 
It  is  easy  to  ask,  of  course,  like  the  little  child  in 
Southey’s  poem,  ‘  But  what  good  came  of  it  at 
last  ?  ’ — and  very  difficult  to  answer.  When 
Collier’s  campaign  began,  the  tide  was  out  in  all 
the  Churches.  Almost  before  it  was  over  the 
nation  had  plunged  into  the  vortex  of  the  Great 
War.  If  to-day  the  tide  is  turning — and  there 
are  many  signs  that  it  is — something  may  be  set 
down,  at  least  in  Methodism,  to  the  patient  per¬ 
sistence  with  which,  not  only  during  his  Presidential 
year,  but  throughout  his  whole  ministry,  Collier 
proclaimed,  by  word  and  by  deed,  the  primacy  of 
the  Church’s  obligation  to  evangelise. 


182 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


Perhaps  no  incident  of  the  campaign  gave  Collier 
greater  personal  satisfaction  than  his  visit  to  his 
native  town  of  Runcorn.  Besides  the  usual  public 
services,  there  were  a  presentation  by  old  friends, 
a  welcome  by  the  local  Free  Church  Council,  and 
a  civic  luncheon  given  by  the  Chairman  of  the 
Urban  District  Council  (Mr.  R.  H.  Posnett).  The 
health  of  the  guest  was  proposed  by  his  old  school¬ 
fellow,  Sir  Frederick  J.  Norman,  who  spoke  of  him 
as  the  biggest  man  that  Runcorn  had  ever  bred.1 
Collier  was  never  a  man  to  set  too  great  store  by 
the  generous  things  said  of  him  by  others,  but  this 
was  an  occasion  of  which  he  did  right  to  be  proud, 
and  he  went  through  the  day,  as  some  one  observed 
at  the  time,  in  a  singularly  exalted  mood. 

Meanwhile,  he  was  still  carrying  the  burden  of 
the  Mission.  The  ceaseless  round  of  public  meetings, 
trying  as  it  would  have  been  to  most  men,  was 
probably  not  more  exacting  to  him  than  the 
strenuous  activities  which  had  been  his  normal 
life  for  so  many  years.  He  was,  of  course,  often 
hard  pressed.  For  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  was 
driven  to  the  dictation  of  letters  on  Sunday.  Never¬ 
theless,  he  managed,  somehow  or  other,  to  keep  in 
touch  with  things  in  Manchester.  He  made  a  point, 
whenever  possible,  of  being  at  home  on  Monday 
in  order  that  he  might  meet  his  workers  in  the 
usual  staff  meeting  on  Tuesday.  And  always  he 

1  A  bigger  compliment  than  the  uninstructed  might  perhaps  suppose 
if,  as  the  speaker  claimed,  Runcorn  has  had  the  bringing  up,  among 
others,  of  Southerne,  the  dramatist,  Sir  J.  Rigby,  the  lawyer,  Hall 
Caine,  the  novelist,  and  Arthur  Nowell,  the  artist. 


PRESIDENT  OF  THE  CONFERENCE  183 

was  his  old,  merry,  resourceful  self.  When  his 
year  of  office  was  over,  there  seemed  no  reason 
why  he  might  not  anticipate  at  least  another  dozen 
years  of  happy,  fruitful  service  in  Manchester. 
But,  alas  !  the  very  month  in  which  he  became 
ex-President  saw  the  piling  up  of  the  black  thunder 
cloud  of  war ;  while  it  hung  there,  for  him  as  for 
others,  all  life  was  changed  ;  when  it  had  lifted, 
his  house  was  left  unto  him  desolate. 


CHAPTER  XI 


VISIT  TO  AUSTRALIA 
1920-1921 

Only  once  during  the  whole  of  the  thirty-six  years 
of  Collier’s  superintendency  of  the  Manchester 
Mission  was  he  absent  from  it  for  more  than  a  few 
weeks  together.  It  happened,  however,  that  the 
close  of  his  Presidential  year  coincided  with  the 
celebration  of  the  centenary  of  Methodism  in 
Australia.  It  was  natural,  therefore,  that  he  should 
be  invited  to  be  the  bearer  of  the  mother  church’s 
congratulations  and  goodwill  to  her  many  children 
under  the  Southern  Cross.  War  intervened,  and 
for  the  moment  nothing  came  of  the  proposal. 
But  at  the  Conference  of  1919,  at  the  urgent  request 
of  the  Church  in  Australia,  the  invitation  was  re¬ 
newed,  and  Collier  agreed  to  go.  He  did  so,  how¬ 
ever,  with  a  good  deal  of  reluctance  and  misgiving. 
For  one  thing,  he  had  not,  and  he  knew  he  had  not, 
the  kind  of  gifts  that  enable  a  man  to  shine  as 
an  4  occasional  ’  speaker.  And  then  there  was  the 
Mission  which  lay  on  his  heart  by  day  and  by  night 
— could  he  afford  to  be  away  from  it  so  long  ? 
Some  words  from  a  letter  to  his  friend  Dr.  Campbell 
Morgan  (November  24,  1919)  show  how  his  mind 
was  working  :  4  I  am  appointed  as  Methodist  dele- 


184 


VISIT  TO  AUSTRALIA 


185 


gate  (the  first  they  have  had)  for  Australia,  and 
shall  probably  have  to  leave  here  about  the  middle 
of  next  July,  and  take  Australia  and  Tasmania 
in  the  months  of  September,  October,  and  Novem¬ 
ber.  The  idea  is  to  visit  all  the  principal  centres. 
I  am  not  at  all  keen  on  going,  but  the  Australian 
Conference  asked  for  me,  and  our  Conference  would 
not  listen  to  any  protest  on  my  part.  My  friends 
tell  me  it  will  add  years  to  my  life.  Is  there  any 
special  advantage  in  that  ?  We  sing,  “  Earth ’s 
but  a  sorry  tent,”  and — 

“  Ah  me,  ah  me,  that  I 
In  Kedar’s  tents  here  stay  !  ”  ’ 

What  helped  to  reconcile  him  to  his  task  was  the 
hope  that  the  long  sea  voyage  might  do  something 
to  restore  the  health  of  his  wife,  which  had  suffered 
seriously  under  the  terrible  strain  of  the  years  of 
war.  With  their  son,  the  Rev.  Donald  Collier, 
they  left  Southampton  for  New  York  on  June  16, 
1920.  Collier  was  greatly  cheered  by  a  kindly  word 
of  remembrance  addressed  to  him  from  Downing 
Street  by  the  Prime  Minister.  ‘  I  have  only  just 
heard,’  wrote  Mr.  Lloyd  George,  4  that  you  are 
shortly  leaving  this  country,  and  I  am  taking  the 
opportunity  of  writing  to  express  the  great  admira¬ 
tion  which  I  feel  for  the  splendid  work,  both  social 
and  philanthropic,  which  you  have  carried  on  during 
the  past  thirty-five  years.  I  am  glad  that  you  have 
undertaken  to  visit  Australia  and  New  Zealand, 
and  feel  sure,  judging  from  the  wide  spiritual  in¬ 
fluence  which  you  have  exercised  here,  that  these 


186  COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 

colonies  cannot  fail  to  benefit  greatly  by  your 
mission.’ 

The  travellers  journeyed  to  the  Pacific  via  the 
United  States  and  Canada.  Collier  preached  en 
route  at  Syracuse  (New  York),  in  the  University 
Church  there,  at  Winnipeg,  where  after  the  evening 
service  he  addressed  an  immense  open-air  meeting 
in  Fort  Rouge  Park — 4  a  great  sight  and  a  big 
opportunity  ’ — and  at  Vancouver.  A  little  incident 
at  Syracuse  gave  him  both  some  amusement  and 
some  satisfaction.  He  stopped  some  boys  on  the 
street  to  inquire  for  a  house  which  he  was  seeking. 
It  was  pointed  out  to  him.  Then  one  of  the  boys 
said  to  him,  4  Weren’t  you  the  preacher  on  Sunday  ? 
My  !  ’  he  went  on,  4  but  you  preached  fine.  I 
understood  everything  you  said.’  Perhaps  the 
small  boys  of  Syracuse  do  not  usually  presume  to 
understand  what  is  said  from  their  University 
pulpit !  At  Vancouver  the  Colliers  embarked  for 
Auckland,  New  Zealand.  The  long  journey  through 
the  South  Pacific  was  pleasantly  varied  by  brief 
calls  at  Honolulu  and  the  Fiji  Islands.  At  Hono¬ 
lulu,  where,  through  the  kindness  of  an  old  college 
chum,  the  way  had  been  prepared  before  him, 
Collier  had  his  first  glimpse  of  the  gorgeous  splen¬ 
dours  of  the  Tropics  : — 

‘  every  day 

The  sunrise  broken  into  scarlet  shafts 

Among  the  palms  and  ferns  and  precipices ; 

The  blaze  upon  the  waters  to  the  east ; 

The  blaze  upon  the  island  overhead  ; 

The  blaze  upon  the  waters  to  the  west ; 


VISIT  TO  AUSTRALIA 


187 


Then  the  great  stars  that  globed  themselves  in  Heaven, 
The  hollower-bellowing  ocean,  and  again 
The  scarlet  shafts  of  sunrise.’ 

4  At  Fiji,’  Collier  wrote,  4  we  had  a  great  welcome, 
the  choir  and  members  of  the  Jubilee  Church 
coming  to  meet  us.  Unfortunately,  the  Niagara 
did  not  arrive  till  11  p.m.  The  Fijians  are  not 
allowed  in  the  streets  after  that  hour  without 
special  permit,  and  they  had  to  return  home. 
They  and  we  were  disappointed.  The  minister, 
the  head  chief,  and  other  Fijians  who  formed  the 
Committee  (for  whom  special  permission  had  been 
obtained)  remained  to  welcome  us.  We  all  went 
to  the  manse,  and  the  ceremony,  intended  for  the 
church,  was  held  there.  An  address  in  Fijian  was 
presented,  the  minister  acting  as  interpreter  for 
them,  and  for  me  in  reply.  They  also  presented 
me  with  a  whale’s  tooth — a  custom  they  have  in 
recognition  of  any  special  guest  they  wish  to  honour. 
They  gave  the  Prince  of  Wales  two  or  three  whale’s 
teeth.  It  was  all  very  kindly  and  very  interesting. 
We  left  them  soon  after  midnight.’  They  landed 
at  Auckland  on  August  10. 

From  this  day  forward,  until  he  left  for  home 
on  December  10,  Collier’s  life  was  one  endless  pro¬ 
gramme  of  public  engagements,  first  in  New  Zealand, 
then  in  Australia  and  Tasmania.  Wherever  he 
went  he  experienced  that  abounding  hospitality — 
to  a  modest  man  sometimes  almost  embarrassing  in 
its  generosity — which  our  kinsmen  overseas  so  well 
know  how  to  show  to  a  visitor  from  the  motherland. 


188 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


But  in  Collier’s  case  the  welcome  was  not  simply 
for  the  official  delegate  of  British  Methodism, 
but  for  the  founder  of  a  great  work  whose  praise 
was  in  all  the  Churches  of  the  English-speaking 
world.  Everywhere  the  fame  of  his  work  had 
gone  before  him ;  everywhere  civic  receptions, 
luncheons,  interviewers,  audiences  were  waiting  for 
him.  Unfortunately,  Collier  kept  no  diary  of  his 
tour,  he  wrote  but  few  letters,  and  all  that  remains 
for  the  hungry  eyes  of  his  biographer  is  a  sheaf  of 
newspaper  cuttings  out  of  which  is  now  wholly  gone 
whatever  little  virtue  may  once  have  been  in  them. 
After  his  return  there  were  the  inevitable  interviews 
and  speeches,  and  from  these,  as  well  as  from  his 
correspondence,  some  idea  may  be  gained  of  the 
impression  made  upon  him  by  all  that  he  saw  and 
heard.  Himself  an  ardent  admirer  of  Lloyd  George, 
he  noted  with  satisfaction  the  immense  enthusiasm 
for  that  statesman  in  which  all  classes  seemed  to 
share.  He  was  humbled  by  the  wealth  of  personal 
kindness  which  Australians  everywhere  showered 
upon  him  ;  he  felt  the  contagion  of  their  cheerful 
optimism  ;  he  rejoiced  in  their  passionate  loyalty 
to  the  British  throne,  and  in  the  vast  potentialities 
of  their  young  and  vigorous  realm.  But  there  were 
other  things  that  impressed  him  less  favourably. 
He  observed,  he  thought,  a  note  of  insularity,  the 
result  of  Australia’s  remoteness  from  the  rest  of 
the  world.  The  open-air  life  of  the  people  at  almost 
all  seasons  of  the  year,  which  their  climate  makes 
possible,  seemed  to  him  to  be  reacting  prejudicially 


VISIT  TO  AUSTRALIA 


189 


on  the  life  of  the  home.  On  the  subject  of  gambling, 
he  declared,  they  had  no  conscience  at  all.  4 1 
found,’  he  said,  4  that  when  I  spoke  about  drink 
at  a  meeting,  the  audience  would  listen  with  interest 
and  approval ;  but  when  I  touched  upon  the  evil 
of  gambling  there  was  an  ominous  silence.’  The 
Methodism  of  Australia  differs  from  that  of  the 
old  land  in  various  ways,  both  for  better  and  for 
worse.  Collier  was  much  impressed  by  its  energy, 
its  influence  on  the  life  of  the  young  Common¬ 
wealth,  and  the  growing  number  of  its  laymen 
who  were  taking  their  part  in  public  affairs.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  loss  of  the  class-meeting,  he 
thought,  had  not  only  robbed  it  of  its  most  char¬ 
acteristic  institution,  it  had  left  a  gap  in  its  organ¬ 
isation  which  nothing  could  make  good.  Such 
were  some  of  the  opinions  which  Collier  reported 
on  his  return  to  England.  It  seems  right  to 
give  them  a  place  in  this  brief  chapter,  but 
they  need  not  be  taken  too  seriously.  One  can 
hardly  judge  a  continent  on  the  strength  of  a 
four-months’  tour,  and  it  may  well  be  that 
longer  observation  and  fuller  knowledge  might 
have  considerably  modified  some  at  least  of  these 
tentative  conclusions.1 

Throughout  the  whole  of  his  journey  nothing  so 
cheered  and  warmed  Collier’s  heart  as  the  evidences 

1  Of  course  lie  kept  his  ears  open  for  any  addition  to  his  stock  of  good 
stories.  Here  is  one  in  the  form  in  which  it  appears  in  one  of  his 
few  Australian  letters :  A  tourist  party — grand  mountain  scenery — 
American  in  the  party:  f  Wal,  this  beats  hell.’  Englishman:  ‘  How 
these  Americans  do  travel !  ’ 


190 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


which  it  afforded  of  the  far-reaching  influence  of 
the  Manchester  Mission.  Again  and  again,  wher¬ 
ever  he  went,  he  came  across  men  and  women 
whose  happiest,  holiest  memories  were  of  the 
Central  Hall  and  of  the  new,  redemptive  power 
which,  through  its  services,  had  come  into  their 
lives.  In  several  cases  those  who  greeted  him  had 
passed  through  the  Homes  and  Shelters  of  the 
Mission.  Others,  who  had  served  their  apprentice¬ 
ship  under  him  as  voluntary  workers,  were  now 
in  the  ranks  of  the  Christian  ministry.  One  man 
whom  he  met  in  Australia  told  him  an  odd  story 
of  how,  years  before,  he  had  gone  one  night  drunk 
to  the  Central  Hall,  how  he  had  been  shut  up  in 
a  room  where  there  was  a  stuffed  alligator — some 
one’s  gift  to  a  forthcoming  4  Sale  of  Work  ’ — and 
how  on  rousing  from  his  drunken  stupor  the  sight 
of  the  uncanny  monster  had  almost  frightened  him 
out  of  his  wits  !  In  Sydney,  two  young  married 
women,  who  had  seen  his  ‘  dear  old  face  ’  in  the 
morning  paper,  rushed  down  to  the  landing-stage 
to  be  the  first  to  greet  him  when  he  stepped  on  shore. 
On  his  way  home,  he  called  for  a  few  hours  at 
Colombo,  Ceylon,  where  he  was  persuaded  to  con¬ 
duct  a  brief  service.  In  the  congregation,  im¬ 
mediately  behind  Mrs.  Collier,  a  woman  sat,  sobbing 
for  joy,  completely  overcome  by  her  emotion  at 
seeing  again  her  old  pastor  and  friend.  And  others, 
who  had  no  opportunity  of  seeing  or  hearing  him, 
wrote  simple,  heart-moving  letters  to  bid  him 
welcome  to  Australia,  and  still  more  to  tell  him 


VISIT  TO  AUSTRALIA 


191 


how  much  through  him  God  had  done  for  them. 
4  You  will  find  this  a  beautiful  country,  with  any 
amount  of  sunshine,’  wrote  one  lonely  woman, 
who  with  her  husband — since  killed  in  the  War — 
had  gone  out  to  Australia  eight  years  before ;  4  a 
beautiful  country,  with  any  amount  of  sunshine. 
I  love  the  sunshine,’  she  went  on,  4  but  I  do  not 
forget  dear,  dirty  old  Manchester.’ 

And  not  old  friends  only  did  he  find  in  Australia, 
but  troops  of  new  ones.  At  the  outset,  many  who 
heard  him  were  disappointed :  his  manner  of 
speaking  seemed  so  casual,  so  unadorned  and 
matter-of-fact.  And,  as  this  brief  record  must  by 
now  have  made  abundantly  clear,  Collier  had  no 
gifts  of  the  showy,  spectacular  order.  But,  as 
one  who  himself  experienced  the  initial  disappoint¬ 
ment  goes  on  to  say,  presently  those  who  listened 
to  him  woke  up  to  the  discovery  that  he  was  4  throw¬ 
ing  down  handfuls  of  nuggets  before  them.’  And 
the  longer  they  listened  the  deeper  grew  their 
appreciation  alike  of  the  man  and  of  his  methods. 
The  Rev.  Henry  Howard,  one  of  whose  memories 
of  Collier’s  Australian  visit  has  found  a  place  on 
an  earlier  page,1  writes  : — 

4  Collier  had  not  the  ad  captandum  gifts  that 
tickle  the  crowd,  and  appeal  to  the  sensation- 
monger.  But  to  those  who  could  construe  him 
through  the  work  he  had  done,  and  listened  to 
him  with  the  memories  of  Manchester  in  their 
minds,  he  was  all  and  more  that  they  could 

1  See  p.  92. 


192 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


desire.  The  impression  that  he  gave  every¬ 
where  was  that  he  was  a  great  man  for  the  job 
— calm,  resolute,  resourceful,  with  a  wonderful 
sagacity,  and  a  trustworthiness  that  won  the 
most  utter  and  immediate  confidence.  He 
greatly  impressed  every  one  with  the  absolute 
self-detachment  with  which  he  talked  of  his 
great  work.  Australians  have  always  had  their 
eye  on  the  Manchester  Mission.  It  has  touched 
their  imagination,  and  to  have  its  missioner  in 
the  flesh,  speaking  to  them  in  great,  loving 
words,  about  the  problems  that  are  after  all 
the  same  the  whole  world  round — though  in¬ 
tensified  perhaps  in  England’s  great  centres,  as 
in  no  other  place — was  a  joy  too  deep  for  words. 
Our  hearts  went  out  to  him  in  a  full  tide  of 
warm  and  welcoming  love  ;  and  to  that  love 
he  responded,  great  human  that  he  was,  as  few 
men  could  do,  and  gave  us  of  his  best.  Even 
those  who  had  not  known  him,  or  his  work, 
could  easily  understand  how  such  a  great-heart 
won  his  way  to  the  affection  of  the  multitude, 
and  made  the  Manchester  Mission  such  a  praise 
in  the  earth.  Of  course,  he  ought  not  to  have 
had  so  much  work  thrust  upon  him,  for  he  was 
a  tired  man.  It  was  not  as  though  he  had  got 
clear  of  the  Mission  while  he  was  away.  As  I 
think  I  have  said  before,  he  never  stood  from 
under  its  weight,  night  or  day ;  it  was  always  in 
his  thoughts.  If  you  came  upon  him  suddenly 
while  he  was  brooding,  the  thought  was  always 
“  Manchester.”  Like  Goldsmith’s  “  Traveller,” 
he  could  say, 

“  Where’er  I  roam,  whatever  realms  to  see, 

My  heart  untravell’d  fondly  turns  to  thee.” 

Sometimes  I  rallied  him  on  it,  but  it  was  no  use. 
Manchester  was  written  on  his  heart,  and  held 
all  the  strongholds  of  his  mind,  so  that  even 


VISIT  TO  AUSTRALIA 


193 


the  gates  of  all  Australia  could  not  prevail 
against  it.  He  greatly  helped  us  all  by  his  wise 
and  brotherly  counsel,  and  made  us  feel  that 
we  were  on  the  winning  side,  who  were  fighting 
for  the  cause  of  righteousness  and  the  coming 
of  the  Kingdom  of  God.’ 

The  pity  of  it  is,  as  Mr.  Howard  himself  recog¬ 
nises,  that  Collier  was  led  to  undertake  so  heavy  a 
programme.  In  saying  this  I  am  not  blaming  any 
one,  least  of  all  his  generous  Australian  hosts.  It 
was  only  natural  that  they  should  wish  to  make  the 
most  of  his  visit.  Nevertheless,  the  fact  remains 
that  their  eagerness  to  hear  him,  joined  to  his  own 
readiness  to  serve  them,  led  him  sorely  to  overtax 
his  strength.  The  journeys  both  in  New  Zealand 
and  in  Australia  were  longer  than  he  had  realised 
— for  example,  six  or  seven  of  his  fourteen  days  in 
New  Zealand  were  spent  in  travelling — and  it  is 
rather  ominous  to  find  him  writing,  only  a  fortnight 
after  his  landing  in  Auckland  :  4 1  keep  quite  fit, 
though  a  little  tired  with  constant  travelling  and 
daily  meetings.’  During  his  first  week  in  Australia 
he  spent  one  night  and  two  days  in  the  train,  and 
preached  or  spoke  seven  times.  By  November  9, 
he  calculated  that  he  had  already  travelled  5500 
miles,  and  spoken  on  over  seventy  occasions. 
Every  letter  home  tells  the  same  tale  of  long 
journeys,  incessant  speaking,  and  growing  weari¬ 
ness  :  4  There  is  scarcely  any  opportunity  for  privacy 
in  this  constant  rush,’  he  wrote  ;  4 1  do  not  seem  to 
have  had  a  quiet  hour  since  landing  in  Australia.’ 

N 


194 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


There  is  no  need  to  say  more.  Nature  does  not 
pay  at  the  end  of  every  week,  but  at  last  she  pays  ; 
and  when,  a  few  months  later,  Collier  was  attacked 
by  disease,  the  reserves  of  strength  which  should 
have  been  there  to  meet  it  were  all  exhausted. 

He  reached  England  early  in  February  1921. 


CHAPTER  XII 

CLOSING  DAYS 
1921 

Collier’s  own  people  gave  him  a  royal  reception 
on  his  return  to  Manchester.  His  absence,  said 
one  of  the  speakers  at  his  welcome  meeting,  had 
seemed  like  the  disappearance  of  a  familiar  land¬ 
mark  from  the  city.  But  more  striking  than  any¬ 
thing  said  from  the  platform  was  the  sight  of  the 
great  crowd  of  members  and  friends  of  the  Mission 
which  thronged  the  Albert  Hall.  A  lady  writing 
to  Mrs.  Collier  a  few  months  later,  on  the  day  after 
her  husband’s  death,  said  :  4  Our  thoughts  have 
been  with  you — and  him — all  to-day  since  we  saw 
the  paper  this  morning.  And  as  I  thought,  the 
picture  in  my  mind  was  always  the  same — the  long 
queue  of  people  waiting  to  get  into  the  Albert  Hall 
to  the  evening  meeting  to  welcome  you  both  back 
from  Australia.  Women  in  shawls  and  clogs,  men 
on  crutches,  old  and  young  of  every  sort,  and  all 
there  because  Mr.  Collier  was  their  friend.’ 

Then  he  plunged  into  the  old  tasks  again,  and 
with  such  apparent  zest  and  vigour,  that  many  of  his 
friends,  deceived  perhaps  by  his  sea-bronzed  cheeks, 
began  to  think  that  their  hopes  were  to  be  fulfilled, 
and  that  his  Australian  tour  had  given  him  another 


195 


196 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


lease  of  life.  An  old  colleague,  at  whose  church 
he  preached  in  April,  declared  that  c  he  had  ten 
years’  more  good  work  in  him.’  He  was  a  speaker 
at  the  great  annual  meeting  of  the  Wesleyan 
Missionary  Society,  in  the  Albert  Hall,  London, 
and  one  who  heard  him  at  another  meeting  in 
Manchester  thought  that  he  had  rarely  spoken 
so  effectively.  There  were  flashes,  too,  of  the  old, 
unconquerable  buoyancy  of  spirit.  In  one  of  his 
very  last  letters,  written  from  Deganwy  to  an 
Australian  friend  about  ten  days  before  his  death, 
he  says  : — 

‘  We  are  enjoying  a  week  at  sunny  Deganwy, 
where  we  hoped  to  have  the  pleasure  of  enter¬ 
taining  you  and  yours.  I  have  just  been  on  the 
hill  at  the  back  of  our  home.  From  the  little 
summit  I  had  a  fine  view  of  Llandudno,  Glod- 
daeth  Woods,  the  Conway  vale,  the  mountains 
on  the  other  side  of  the  river,  and — right  away 
across  the  straits — Anglesea,  Puffin  Island,  etc. 
It  is  all  very  lovely.  We  had  set  our  hearts  on 
showing  it  all  to  you.  This  very  morning  your 
letters  arrived  with  the  disappointing  news  that 
you  are  not  to  be  with  us  this  year.  However, 
you  give  us  the  hope  of  a  visit  in  the  near  future. 
How  glad  we  shall  be  to  renew  our  fellowship 
with  you  all !  .  .  .  Since  my  return  I  have  been 
very  busy.  The  Mission  had  run  smoothly  and 
successfully.  They  reserved  any  difficulties  in 
changes  and  extensions  for  me ;  I  am  now 
dealing  with  them  under  conditions  of  life  and 
industry  that  are  not  helpful.  But  England 
is  pulling  through  steadily.  I  have  never  seen 
the  people  so  calm,  confident,  even  hopeful,  at 
such  critical  times.  The  clouds  are  already 


CLOSING  DAYS 


197 


clearing,  and  I  think  we  ’ll  be  in  brighter  days, 
nationally  and  internationally,  soon.’ 

In  another  Deganwy  letter,  written  to  one  of  his 
sons,  a  month  earlier,  it  is  not  easy  to  say  which  is 
the  stronger — the  impulse  to  work,  or  the  craving 
for  rest : — 

4  I  have  been  in  Manchester  (and  other  places) 
as  busy  as  possible.  Driven  rather  too  hard,  I 
was  fearfully  tired  on  Thursday,  and  fled  here 
both  for  my  own  sake,  and  in  order  to  arrange 
mother’s  return.  .  .  .  Everything  looks  very 
beautiful  this  morning  and  makes  one  feel 
tempted  to  wish  a  few  years’  quiet  and  retired 
life.  But  44  the  world  is  in  such  a  condition, 
and  so  much  depends  on  action,  that  everything 
seems  to  be  crying  out  loudly  to  everybody, 
Do  something  ” — Bulwer  Lytton  ;  but  it  fits 
to-day.’ 

The  sad  truth  is  that,  after  his  return  from 
Australia,  Collier  was  never  his  old  self  again  ;  he 
had  come  home  only  to  die.  I  do  not  know  that 
he  ever  put  it  in  so  many  words — it  was  never  his 
way  to  speak  much  of  himself — but  some  of  those 
who  were  near  him  were  conscious  of  a  change  in 
him,  as  if  he  had  heard  a  voice  say, 

‘  It  is  time  to  be  old, 

To  take  in  sail.’ 

He  tired  much  more  quickly  than  was  his  wont ; 
he  had  lost  the  old  quickness  in  getting  the  threads 
of  work  into  his  hands  ;  the  back  was  no  longer 
equal  to  the  daily  burden.  He  did  his  best  to 


198 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


conceal  the  fact.  ‘  However  unfit  you  may  feel,’ 
he  used  to  say  to  his  colleagues,  1  when  you  are 
going  into  the  pulpit  or  on  the  platform,  never 
show  it.  Pull  yourself  together,  and  try  to  appear 
at  your  best.’  And  he  acted  upon  his  own  counsel. 
But  the  time  was  at  hand  when  the  truth  could 
no  longer  be  concealed.  He  preached  for  the  last 
time  on  Whitsunday  (May  15).  It  was  a  very  busy 
day,  though  not  busier  than  his  Sundays  normally 
were.  He  conducted  the  morning  service  at  Union 
Street  Wesleyan  Methodist  Church,  Rochdale.  In 
the  afternoon  he  was  motored  back  for  a  great 
open-air  service  in  Heaton  Park,  Manchester,  ad¬ 
dressed  by  the  new  Bishop  (Dr.  Temple)  and  him¬ 
self.  He  preached  again  at  Rochdale  in  the 
evening,  returning  home  the  same  night.  The 
next  day  he  was  at  Cliff  College,  in  Derbyshire, 
to  join  in  the  Whitsuntide  anniversary  gatherings 
of  his  friend,  Samuel  Chadwick.  He  complained 
of  a  sharp,  shooting  pain  in  his  side  after  speaking. 
On  Tuesday,  very  unwell,  he  sought  refuge  in  his 
loved  Deganwy,  where  the  letter  to  his  Australian 
friend  quoted  above  was  written.  There  he  re¬ 
mained  resting  quietly  till  the  following  Monday 
(May  23),  when  again  he  returned  to  Manchester. 
Obviously  unfit  though  he  was,  he  attended  the 
usual  staff  meeting  on  Tuesday  morning,  and 
stayed  for  the  mid-day  service  which  followed,  at 
which  Dr.  F.  B.  Meyer  was  the  preacher.  Im¬ 
mediately  afterwards  he  went  for  a  thorough  over¬ 
hauling  at  the  hands  of  his  doctor.  The  medical 


CLOSING  DAYS 


199 


verdict  was  that  he  was  utterly  exhausted,  and 
that  complete  rest  was  absolutely  imperative. 
From  Tuesday  to  Friday  he  was  persuaded  to  re¬ 
main  in  bed.  Then,  despite  the  remonstrances  of 
his  friends,  he  left  his  room  to  attend  a  Trustees’ 
Meeting  at  which  important  business,  he  thought, 
rendered  his  presence  necessary.  When  the  busi¬ 
ness  was  over  he  told  the  meeting  the  doctor’s 
report.  He  had  made  a  mistake  in  plunging  at 
once  into  the  work  of  the  Mission  after  his  long 
and  exhausting  tour.  4  It  is  easy  to  be  wise  after 
the  event,’  he  said,  4  and  I  know  now  that  I  ought 
to  have  rested  for  a  while  on  the  Continent.’  The 
meeting  broke  up  ;  Collier  shook  hands,  and  turned 
away  to  go  home.  He  was  never  in  the  Central 
Hall  again. 

That  night  (Friday),  after  his  return,  he  seemed 
no  worse.  Gipsy  Smith,  who  had  come  to  take 
his  Sunday  services,  was  with  him,  and  the  two 
friends  chatted  together  for  a  long  time.  The  Gipsy 
tried  to  persuade  him  that  the  time  had  come  when 
he  must  resign,  and  leave  the  burden  of  the  Mission 
to  others.  But  Collier  would  not  be  persuaded, 
not  yet  at  least ;  there  were  a  few  things  that  he 
must  see  through  first.  The  next  morning  in¬ 
fluenza  developed,  with  a  high  temperature,  and 
the  day  following,  pneumonia  and  pleurisy.  On 
Tuesday  he  became  unconscious  ;  the  poor,  tired 
heart  had  no  strength  for  a  struggle,  and  on  Thurs¬ 
day  (June  2)  he  was  gone.  All  through  the  delirium 
of  the  last  hours,  his  mind  was  still  busy  with  the 


200 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


things  of  the  Mission,  dictating  letters,  delivering 
speeches,  treading  the  old,  familiar  round.  At  one 
time  he  was  concerned  about  the  welfare  of  some 
coloured  students,  whose  coming  he  had  been  ex¬ 
pecting.  At  another,  his  mind  turned  to  the 
Australian  cricketers  who  were  that  year  visiting 
England.  Yet  here,  too,  the  Mission  was  the  back¬ 
ground  of  his  thoughts  ;  some  of  the  leading  players 
were  going  to  speak  at  the  Central  Hall :  4  Before 
I  forget,’  he  said,  4  ring  up  Cooper  and  arrange.’ 
Shortly  before  the  end  on  Thursday,  he  imagined 
himself  at  Bridgewater  Hall ;  the  meeting  was 
just  coming  to  a  close ;  he  announced  the  familiar 
Doxology,  started  the  tune,  and  called  on  those 
in  the  room  to  join  with  him. 

*  Even  now  he  sung. 

.  .  .  ’Tis  strange  that  death  should  sing.’ 

But  his  was  no  4  doleful  hymn,’  though  sung  with 
4  the  organ-pipe  of  frailty.’ 1  He  greeted  the  Un¬ 
seen  with  a  cheer ;  he  met  his  Lord  with  a  glad 
4  Laus  Deo  ’  on  his  lips. 

The  funeral,  which  took  place  on  Monday,  June  6, 
at  the  Southern  Cemetery,  was  one  such  as  Man¬ 
chester  has  rarely  seen. 

4  The  service  in  the  cemetery — I  quote  from 
the  Manchester  Guardian  of  the  following  day — 
was  of  the  simplest  possible  character,  but  a 
memorial  service  was  held  before  it  at  the 
Central  Hall.  The  interment  was  witnessed  by 
a  greater  press  of  people  than  has  ever  gathered 

1  See  Shakespeare's  King  John,  Act  v.  Scene  vii. 


CLOSING  DAYS 


201 


at  the  cemetery  on  any  similar  occasion.  It 
was  an  impressive  expression  of  the  respect  in 
which  Mr.  Collier  was  held  in  Manchester.  In 
the  funeral  procession  there  were  a  hundred 
motor-cars  bearing  friends  and  representatives 
of  every  branch  of  the  religious,  political,  and 
social  life  of  the  city,  and  four  cars  were  filled 
with  wreaths  alone.  The  procession  was  watched 
by  many  people  along  the  route  from  the  city  ; 
and  at  the  cemetery,  on  each  side  of  the  pathway 
from  the  gates  to  the  graveside,  men  and  women 
were  lined  up,  rank  after  rank,  in  a  great  un¬ 
broken  sequence.  The  occasion  was  marked 
by  an  extreme  simplicity,  in  perfect  accord  with 
the  character  of  the  man  in  whose  honour  the 
vast  crowd  had  assembled. 

c  The  memorial  service  at  the  Central  Hall  was 
hardly  less  remarkable  than  the  funeral  itself. 
Two  hours  before  the  service  began  people  were 
taking  their  places,  and  at  the  advertised  time 
every  seat  in  the  large  hall  was  filled.  It  was 
a  representative  gathering.  On  the  platform, 
representing  the  Corporation,  were  the  Lord 
Mayor  of  Manchester  and  the  Chief  Constable. 
Beside  the  representatives  of  the  Wesleyan  com¬ 
munity  were  Canon  Peter  Green  (representing 
the  Dean  and  Chapter  of  Manchester  Cathedral), 
the  Rev.  Dr.  Roberts,  and  Sir  Edward  Tootal 
Broadhurst.  The  Rev.  J.  Hornabrook  con¬ 
ducted  the  service,  and  an  address  was  delivered 
by  the  Rev.  Samuel  Chadwick,  who  had  been 
intimately  associated  with  Mr.  Collier  from  his 
earliest  days.’ 


To-day  the  grave  is  marked  by  a  large  cross  of 
Aberdeen  granite,  placed  there  by  the  loving 
hands  of  the  people  to  whom  he  had  given  his 


202  COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 

life.  On  the  front  of  the  cross  are  inscribed  these 
words  : — 

‘  In  Praise  to  God  for  the  Life  of 
The  Rev.  Samuel  Francis  Collier, 

October  3rd,  1855 — June  2nd,  1921. 

This  Memorial 

To  the  Founder  and  First  Superintendent 
(1885—1921) 
is  erected 

in  loving  remembrance 
By  the  Members  of  the 
Manchester  and  Salford  Wesleyan  Mission.’ 

On  the  right  and  on  the  left  of  the  stone  are  the 
names  of  the  two  sons,  Frank  and  Sidney,  who 
died  in  the  War. 

It  has  been  my  privilege  to  read  an  immense 
number  of  letters  and  telegrams — some  hundreds 
in  all — addressed  to  Mrs.  Collier  after  her  husband’s 
death.  They  came  from  men  and  women  of  all 
sorts,  in  all  parts  of  the  world,  and  taken  together 
they  form  a  very  striking  and  spontaneous  tribute 
to  his  memory.  4  All  humanitarian  causes,’  said 
the  Prime  Minister  (Mr.  Lloyd  George),  4  are  greatly 
impoverished  by  Mr.  Collier’s  death.’  4  All  who 
care  for  the  religious  life  of  Manchester,’  said  Bishop 
Temple,  4  are  mourning  with  you.’  1  Mr.  J.  L. 
Paton,  the  High  Master  of  Manchester  Grammar 
School,  spoke  for  a  great  host  of  workers  for  the 
city’s  welfare  when  he  said,  4  This  day  the  Lord 

1  At  a  service  in  the  Cathedral,  the  day  after  Collier’s  death,  the 
Dean  referred  to  their  loss,  and  at  his  suggestion  the  whole  congregation 
stood  in  silence  as  a  mark  of  respect  and  sympathy. 


CLOSING  DAYS 


203 


taketh  away  our  head  from  us.5  4 1  doubt  if  any 
man,’  wrote  Dr.  R.  F.  Horton,  4  ever  crowded  more 
service,  more  achievement,  for  Christ  into  sixty-six 
years.  He  makes  us  all  feel  unprofitable  servants.’ 
Others,  again,  spoke,  not  so  much  of  the  loss  to  the 
Church  or  the  community,  as  of  their  own  sharp, 
personal  bereavement :  it  was  as  if  something  had 
gone  out  of  their  life  that  could  never  be  replaced. 
4  Manchester,  to  me,’  said  Dr.  Campbell  Morgan, 

4  is  empty  without  him.  It  may  be  a  weak  and 
foolish  thing  to  say,  but  I  say  it  nevertheless  ;  I 
don’t  feel  that  I  ever  want  to  walk  its  streets  again.’ 
And  nowhere,  of  course,  was  the  sense  both  of 
public  and  private  loss  so  keen  as  among  the 
members  of  his  own  community.  4  There  is  none 
like  him  left  to  us,’  wrote  one  who  followed  him  in 
the  Chair  of  the  Conference.  4  Many  of  us,’  said 
an  old  colleague,  4  have  lost  our  44  Master  ”  who 
taught  us  most  of  what  we  know  in  Christian  work.’ 

And  beside  all  these  was  the  multitude  of  those 
who  wrote  no  letters,  who  brought  no  costly  wreaths, 
but  whose  sorrow  was  not  less  real  because  for  the 
most  part  it  was  inarticulate.  A  week  after  the 
funeral  a  minister  took  into  the  Albert  Hall  a  friend 
who  wished  to  see  over  the  building.  A  woman 
was  washing  the  floor  in  the  entrance  hall.  As  she 
rose  from  her  knees,  the  minister  said  to  her,  4  We 
have  lost  a  friend.’  4  No,’  said  she  simply,  correct¬ 
ing  him,  4 1  ’ve  lost  a  father.’  One  is  reminded  of 
the  scene  in  the  upper  chamber  at  Joppa,  where 
Dorcas  lay  dead.  When  Peter  came,  we  are  told, 


204 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


all  the  widows  stood  by  him  weeping.  There  is 
no  record  of  anything  they  said,  but  they  showed 
him  on  themselves  1  the  coats  and  garments  which 
Dorcas  had  made,  while  she  was  with  them.  It 
was  with  love  like  that  that  thousands  followed 
Collier  to  his  grave,  and  still  cherish  his  memory 
in  .their  hearts.  When  William  the  Silent  died, 
Motley  tells  us,  the  little  children  cried  in  the 
streets.  And  of  all  the  words  that  love  has  spoken 
in  praise  of  Collier  of  Manchester  none  would  have 
been  sweeter  to  his  own  ear  than  the  unrecorded 
words  spoken  in  the  dwellings  of  the  poor,  where 
for  long  he  will  be  named  softly  ‘  as  the  household 
name  of  one  whom  God  has  taken.’ 

1  A  beautiful  little  touch  (Acts  ix.  39)  which  is  missing  from  both  our 
Authorised  and  Revised  Versions. 


INDEX 


Arnold,  Matthew,  4,  95,  173. 
Ashwell,  Miss  Lena,  147. 

Auckland,  186,  193. 

Austin,  Rev.  G.  Beesley,  42. 
Australia,  16,  65,  66,  76,  163. 

Ayre,  Rev.  G.  J.,  16. 

Barrie,  Sir  J.  M.,  15. 

Beattie,  Mr.,  160. 

Beaupuy,  Michel,  123. 

Belfast,  177,  178. 

Bennetts,  Rev.  G.  Armstrong,  7,  8. 
Benson,  Joseph,  171. 

Bickerton  House,  6,  8,  12,  14,  15, 
160. 

Binney’s  Eternal  Light,  154. 

Birrell,  Mr.  Augustine,  170. 
Blackie,  John  Stuart,  15. 
Blatchford,  Robert,  21,  54. 

Bower,  Mr.,  6. 

Brash,  Rev.  J.  Denholm,  163. 

-  Rev.  W.  Bardsley,  163. 

Brentford,  29,  34,  118. 

Bridgewater  Canal,  5. 

Broadhurst,  Sir  Edward  Tootal,  60, 

201. 

Bronte,  Charlotte,  73. 

Browning,  Robert,  101. 

Buchan,  John,  152. 

Bullen,  Frank  T.,  113. 

Carman,  Rev.  Dr.  S.  1’arkes,  62, 
115, 116. 

Caine,  Hall,  182. 

Cambridge  Examinations,  7. 
Canada,  186. 

Chadwick,  Rev.  Samuel,  104,  198, 

201. 

Chalmers,  Dr.,  170. 

Charnwood,  Lord,  102. 

Clarion,  64. 

Cliff  College,  198. 

Clow,  Dr.  W.  M.,  151. 


Colombo,  190. 

Collier,  S.  F.,  parentage,  2;  schools, 
6 ;  cricket,  7,  146 ;  religious 
decision,  8 ;  local  preacher,  9  ; 
candidate  for  the  ministry,  11  ; 
college,  11;  ‘District Missionary,’ 
22  ;  first  circuit,  29  ;  Lever  Street, 
40 ;  Central  Hall,  46  et  passim ; 
marriage,  154;  children,  167, 
162 ;  President  of  the  Conference, 
168;  Australian  tour,  184;  death, 
199. 

- Samuel  (father  of  S.  F.  C.),  2. 

- Mrs.  (mother  of  S.  F.  C.),  2. 

- Mrs.  (wife  of  S.  F.  C.),  134, 

154,  165,  169,  179,  190,  195, 

202. 

- Frank  (eldest  son  of  S.  F.  C.), 

155,  162,  202. 

- Harold  (second  son),  157,  158. 

- Donald  (third  son),  86,  159, 

160,  161,  185. 

- Sidney  (youngest  son),  163, 

166,  202. 

Cooper,  Rev.  Herbert,  108,  200. 
Cornwall,  181. 

Crossley,  Mr.  W.  J.,  58. 

Curnock,  Nehemiah,  113. 

Daily  Chronicle,  124. 

Dale,  Dr.,  144,  162,  170. 

Deganwy,  75,  91,  161,  196,  197, 
198. 

Deissmann,  95. 

Denney,  Dr.,  21. 

Dickens,  152. 

Didsbury  College,  11,  14,  16,  17, 
18,  20,  22, 160,  161, 169  ;  College 
Chapel,  109. 

Disley,  18. 

Dorcas,  204. 

Dowden,  E. ,  96. 

Drinkwater,  Mr.  John,  102. 

205 


206 


COLLIER  OF  MANCHESTER 


Drummond,  Henry,  77. 

Dymchurch,  24,  25. 

Eliot,  George,  152. 

Emerson,  65. 

Fiddick,  Rev.  H.  G.,  105. 

Fiji,  186,  187. 

Flat  Iron  Market,  80. 

Fogg,  Madame  Sadler,  134. 
Folkestone,  24. 

Fosdick,  Dr.,  151. 

Free  Church  Council,  66. 

Free  Church  Hymnal,  153. 

Free  Trade  Hall,  48,  59,  92,  108, 
113. 

Garrett,  Rev.  Charles,  38,  168. 
Geden,  Dr.  J.  Dury,  14,  18,  20. 
Geikie’s  Life  of  Christ,  20. 

George,  Lloyd,  185,  188. 

Gladstone,  164. 

Goldsmith’s  Traveller,  192. 

Green,  Canon  Peter,  201. 

Hay,  Ian,  152. 

Heaton  Mersey,  18-20,  22,  26,  71. 
Holy  Spirit,  118,  119. 

Honolulu,  186. 

Hood  Street,  129,  131. 

Hornabrook,  Rev.  J.,  201. 

Horne,  Silvester,  141. 

Horton,  Dr.  R.  F.,  203. 

Hounslow,  29,  31,  34,  42,  45. 
Howard,  Rev.  Henry,  92,  191,  193. 
Hoyle,  Rev.  Arthur,  172. 

Hughes,  Hugh  Price,  141,  168. 
Hullo!  147. 

Hutchinson,  A.  S.  M.,  137- 
Hutton,  Dr.  J.  A.,  165. 

Hythe,  24. 

Institutional  Church,  137. 

Jackson,  Dr.  George,  96. 

.fames,  William,  114. 

July  Committee,  160. 

Kent,  22,  24-27,  29,  34,  45. 

King  John ,  200. 

Knox,  Bishop,  61. 

Laws  of  Christ  for  Common  Life,  144. 
Lever  Street,  40,  45,  71,  126. 
Liddon,  170. 


Lincoln,  Abraham,  102,  108. 
Liverpool  Law  Courts,  10. 

Locke,  W.  J.,  152. 

London  University,  15,  41. 

Lunn,  Madame  Kirkby,  134. 
Luther,  Martin,  144. 

Lytton,  Bulwer,  197. 

M(Aulay,  Rev.  Alex.,  25. 

M'Laren,  Dr.  Alexander,  58,  63 
141,  151,  170. 

Manchester,  Bishop  of,  61,  198. 

- City  News,  68. 

- Dean  of,  62. 

- Guardian,  39,  51,  131,  200. 

- Lord  Mayor  of,  61,  201. 

Manchester  and  Salford  Lay 
Mission,  61. 

Manning,  Cardinal,  3. 

Martineau,  Dr.,  170. 

Math  win,  Mr.  Henry,  6,  7,  13. 
Matriculation,  London,  7. 

Men’s  Home,  1,  55,  57,  65,  125, 
129. 

Methodist  Church,  Primitive,  3. 

- Recorder,  113,  117. 

Meyer,  Dr.  F.  B.,  198. 

Milne,  A.  A.,  152. 
c  Miriam  Gray,’  145. 

Monte  Carlo,  76. 

Moody,  Dwight  L.,  119,  152. 
Moorhouse,  Bishop,  61. 

Morgan,  Dr.  Campbell,  145,  165, 
184,  203. 

- Rev.  John  Hugh,  31. 

Morley,  Lord,  134,  164. 

Motley,  204. 

Moulton,  Dr.  James  Hope,  54. 

- Dr.  W.  Fiddian,  168. 

Myers’  St.  Paul,  28,  79. 

Nance,  Rev.  F.  J.,  16. 

New  Zealand,  185,  193. 

Nicoll,  Sir  W.  Robertson,  62,  151. 
Nield,  Rev.  H.  M.,  131. 
Nightingale,  Florence,  85. 
Norman,  Sir  Frederick  J.,  182. 
Norway,  146. 

Nowell,  Arthur,  182. 

Oldham,  18. 

Owens  College,  41,  43. 

Paget,  Sir  James,  170. 


INDEX 


207 


f  Parson  John/  145. 

Paton,  Mr.  J.  L. ,  202. 

Pattison,  Mark,  170. 

Pearson,  Rev.  V.  W.,  16. 

Plymouth  Conference,  31,  169,  170, 
176,  180. 

Poor  Law,  131  ;  Royal  Commission 
on,  138. 

Pope,  Dr.  H.  J.,  18,  37,  38,  44, 
53,  55,  88. 

- Dr.  W.  Burt,  14,  20,  38. 

Posnett,  Mr.  R.  H.,  182. 

Preston  Brook,  2. 

Prince  of  Wales,  187. 

Punshon,  Dr.  Morley,  168. 

Reform  Club,  59,  144. 

Reunion  in  Eternity,  151. 

Rigby,  Sir  J.,  182. 

Rigg,  Dr.  James  H.,  168. 

Roberts,  Rev.  Dr.,  201. 

Robertson,  F.  W.,  of  Brighton, 
73. 

- Grant,  170. 

- Prof.  J.  A.,  151. 

Rochdale,  198. 

Rochester,  25,  26. 

Rosebery,  Lord,  164. 

Ross,  Dr.  G.  A.  Johnston,  56,  64. 
Royle,  Mr.  John,  61. 

Runcorn,  2,  182. 

- Mill  House  Academy,  6. 

- St.  Paul’s  Church,  5. 

Sackett,  Mr.  J. ,  66. 

Sandwich,  26. 

Sankey,  IraD.,  152-4. 

Scott,  Sir  Walter,  86,  152. 

Seeley,  Sir  J.  R. ,  170. 

Sellar,  Prof.  VP.,  95. 

Sisters  of  the  Mission,  59,  73,  77, 
166. 

Smith,  Gipsy,  78,  103,  107,  179, 
181,  199. 


Smith,  Sir  George  Adam,  62,  95, 

149. 

Southerne,  182. 

Southey,  181. 

Southport,  Birkdale  Common,  9. 
Spiritual  Pilgrimage  of  Jesus,  151. 
Spurgeon,  Rev.  C.  H.,  113. 

Stead,  Mr.  Thomas  Walton,  8. 
Stevenson,  R.  L.,  170. 

Sumner,  43. 

Switzerland,  29. 

Sydney,  190. 

Syracuse,  186. 

Tasmania,  185. 

Temple,  Bishop,  62. 

Thackeray,  152. 

Twickenham,  29,  31,  34,  42,  45. 

Union  Chapel,  Manchester,  58, 

150. 

U.S.A.,  62,  186. 

Ward,  Artemus,  102. 

Watson’s  Institutes,  2. 

Welldon,  Bishop,  62. 

Wesley,  69,  70,  125,  168,  171.  , 
- Mrs.,  96. 

VP esleyan  Missionary  Society,  196. 
Whitefield,  69. 

Whittier,  43. 

Wigan,  11. 

VPilliam  the  Silent,  204. 
VPinchelsea,  27- 
Wiseman,  Rev.  F.  L. ,  16,  169. 
Wordsworth,  96,  123,  170. 

Ydgrun,  124. 

Ydgrunites,  125,  134. 

Y.M.C.A.  in  France,  65. 
Yorkshire,  146. 

Young,  Dr.  Robert  Newton,  46. 


